#he's chest has missing tetris pieces

[prince-toffee]

What we could have had:

What we got:

[thefvrious]

Steve’s too consumed by the movement of his lips, his teeth, his tongue on whatever bits of Eddie he can get hold of to notice the way the other guy’s face falls at Steve’s sheer idiocy. He’s humming to himself, kissing and sucking little spots as his lips move across the expanse of skin he can see, the tattoos he can see.

“Hm?” He says, spell suddenly broken as he looks up. Has he done something wrong? Over-stepped? Were they just going to take their shirts off and make out? That was okay, too, he just hadn’t thought about it like that. His mouth is a perfect, curious circle as his eyes trail over Eddie like trying to figure him out. “Okay...” He says, his head canting to the side like the confused puppy he is — the only thing he’s missing is the lolling tongue.

Steve makes a face. He’s pretty sure Eddie’s wearing a bra, and he’s never heard one called a binder before, but then Eddie’s still talking and it all starts to slot into place, like Tetris pieces falling. “Oh... oh.” He says, brows rising, disappearing behind that mess of hair as his gaze drifts down and down and stops on Eddie’s chest hidden beneath the tight fabric. Then... lower, to his abdomen, studying his body, looking for anything that might indicate what he feels like he should have known.

Finally, Steve looks back at Eddie, his confusion coming to its head as Eddie starts to tremble, starts to cry a little. “Whoa! Hey, hey, what’s the matter? Did I do something?” He asks, and Steve’s grabbing Eddie by his face, gently making the other look at him. “Why would it be a deal-breaker?” His voice is soft now and he leans in to kiss Eddie on the lips. He may not understand entirely but he thinks he gets the gist of it. “If anything, at least I sort of know what I’m doing now...” He laughs. “Oh, hey, I thought you said you loved me, now it’s like?”

nsfw reply under cut

Eddie's face falls a little at Steve's reply, holding his head back for a moment and letting Steve nip at his collarbones as he tries to wrap his mind around how to explain what he thought would have been obvious at this point. And though he hadn't yet pieced the words together he panics a little when Steve reaches for the front of his jeans, knowing what he's expecting to find beneath them.

"Wait, Steve, wait," Eddie says, grabbing both of Steve's hands between his and picking his head up. His eyes are wide once more, but this time with worry rather than anticipation. He's once again convinced himself he'll receive rejection, but he plans on relishing in what few moments of Steve's affection he has left as he cradles Steve's hands in his. "I need to tell you something, okay?"

"First of all, it's called a binder, not a bra. And I'm wearing it cause I need it." Eddie looks down at their hands, his thumb brushing against Steve's. "I, uh... I'm transgender, which means I was born a girl. I pretty much always knew I was a boy, though. Ever since I was little. I started taking drugs- prescribed by a doctor- to look more like a boy, sound like one. But I've still got all the same parts I was born with. Unfortunately."

"I'm sorry." His voice is trembling now, tears of anticipation of rejection. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I always do before it gets to this point. I just- I thought I had by now. I wasn't trying to trick you or anything. And if that's a dealbreaker I get it. I just... I like you so much."

[sdottkrames]

Welcome Home My Boy (Welcome Home My Son)

✍🏼By: me, @sdottkrames

🎁For: @skeeter-110 for the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange

⭐️Rating: general audiences

💜Relationships: Tony Stark & Peter Parker, Tony Stark/Pepper Potts

Characters: Tony Stark, Peter Parker, Pepper Potts, May Parker (au where she’s not Peter’s aunt)

Summary: Tony Stark’s life is missing something. Peter Parker is an orphan who wants a family. And Pepper Potts comes up with an idea that brings them together

Read on AO3: Here

“Do you have a family?”

“Yes. And I will see them when I leave here. You Stark?”

Tony’s mind flashed first to Pepper. Then Obadiah, Rhodey, Happy. But the memories exploded with the car crash that had killed his parents and faded along with the life in the eyes of Edwin Jarvis. He had no family. He’d kept it that way, distancing himself with booze and sunglasses and a falsely confident persona, all to protect himself from being hurt even more when he inevitably lost them, too.

“No.”

 Ho Yinsen had changed Tony’s life in more ways than one, but perhaps the greatest change had been through that admittance he’d been forced to give. 

Ever since that whispered “no,” there had been something stirring in Tony’s chest. He’d squashed it down vehemently when a black Tetris puzzle crawled across his chest and neck like some evil game. When he’d been freed of that, he’d found a little family in his best friend and his (now) girlfriend who hadn’t let themselves be pushed too far away by his fears and insecurities. 

Then his family had unexpectedly and, at first, unwelcomingly, grown. But soon the five other superheroes had forced their way into his heart and home. He rearranged the tower to house the new avengers, and found himself participating in weekly team training exercises and helping Steve Rogers of all people cook for team dinners. Game nights and movie nights and pool parties became part of the norm and Tony found himself slowly working through the anxiety and fear that carrying a nuke through a wormhole and falling almost to his death left in its wake.

 His life had never been more full of family. But something was still missing.

Then he’d had the dream.

***

Pepper was pregnant. 

She came to him with tears in her eyes, excitement and joy warring with worry and fear on her face, and showed him the positive test. 

“Tony,” she whispered, and he found himself speechless. The joy he felt spread all the way through his chest and stilled his tongue so he answered the only way he knew how: he swept his beautiful wife into his arms, shoulders shaking a little with a joyful sob that broke through.

“You are?” He finally choked out, and saw the fear and worry leave the battlefield of her eyes and she nodded.

“We- we gotta get a room together! A crib and, and paint. What color? Grey? You like grey? That’s neutral right? Then it doesn’t matter what they are- boy or girl or even if they decide to say eff off to gender norms.”

Pepper cut him off with an ecstatic kiss, and Tony felt that stirring for something different, something more, settle and dissipate. 

He’d finally found what was missing.

*** 

Tony woke up in tears, mourning something he wanted with every fiber of his heart, but that he feared he would never be good enough for.

He mentioned it to Pepper, and she was the one that came up with the idea.

“Tony, I want you to listen to me, and get this into your head. We’ve both talked about how we aren’t ready for kids, but I need you to know that it isn’t because I don’t think you’ll be a wonderful dad. When we decide to have kids, you will be the best dad those kids could ask for. I believe that with all my heart.”

He nodded, taking a deep breath and letting himself hear her words and believe them.

“What if you volunteered at an orphanage or something?” she said. “Get around kids, fulfil that desire until we both feel ready for a family of our own?”

“That’s not a half bad idea.”

Pepper had left him to his thoughts then. Once he got that look on his face, she knew that he wouldn’t let it go.

Sure enough, Tony found an orphanage in severe disrepair and desperate need of some support. After a few meetings with his teammates to make sure they were okay with little kids coming to the tower for a bit (Natasha and Bruce had thought it sweet, Steve had smiled and got a look in his eye like he was already imagining hanging out with the little ones, and Clint and Rhodey had all agreed enthusiastically) and filing all the paperwork with the best lawyers he could find, he’d gone to the orphanage to offer his help.

May, the sweet but slightly frazzled orphanage caretaker, had burst into tears right there.

“I- I don’t know what to say. I’m speechless,” she said, chuckling through grateful sobs.

“No thanks needed. I’ll take the kiddos off your hands for a couple months while my guys fix this place up. You just tell them exactly how you want it and what you need. We’ll take care of everything.”

Three weeks, several panic attacks, and more trips to Toys “R” Us and Ikea than he wanted to admit to, Tony had one of the lower floors of the tower completely arranged to house seven small children and was preparing to welcome them into his home.

“Everything’s gonna be fine, Tony,” Pepper whispered, hearing his breath hitch as the car he’d sent to pick up the kids pulled in.

“Yeah,” he said, taking a deep breath. “Just fine. Let’s go meet our new roommates.”

***

Peter Parker could not believe his luck. 

When his parents had died in a horrible car crash a year ago and he’d ended up in the orphanage, he’d been labeled as having bad luck. Every little trip they went on, something happened. He’d accidentally let the class snake out at school (May had told him about Harry Potter, and how he'd let a snake out, too, which made Peter feel better). And there was the time that he’d gotten left behind during an outing at Central park, and the time a bird had pooped on his ice cream while he was eating it outside with his best friend Ned, and the time that-

Well, you get the picture.

Joselyn called it “Parker Luck,” but she wasn’t trying to be mean. She just talked even more than Peter did, and tended to say exactly what she thought. She was one of Peter’s best friends at the orphanage, and besides, she wasn’t wrong. Peter did tend to have some not so great things happen to him.

But not today.

Today was the greatest day of his life, because today was the day that all the kids were moving into the Stark Tower. 

Three weeks ago, Tony Stark himself had come to the orphanage. Peter remembered May crying and he hadn’t known why. He’d drawn her a picture to make her happy, but she explained that they were good tears, and had told him and all the kids that they would be leaving for a few months to live at Stark Towers. 

Peter had nearly peed his pants in excitement, and he was quivering with it again as the car pulled up and he could see both Tony Stark and Pepper Potts through the glass door. 

One by one, each kid got out of the car while a small swarm of workers gathered their things to take up for them.

“Hello, everyone,” Pepper greeted them with a smile, and Peter felt his cheeks heat up. Tony was his hero, but he also knew how smart and wonderful Pepper Potts was. 

“Welcome,” Tony said, grinning.

As soon as the man spoke, Peter couldn’t help the way his eyes went wide and his mouth popped open with a gasp. He was everything the boy had imagined, standing confidently in a sharp black suit with those signature sunglasses on his face.

The two adults began to explain the rules of the tower as they took the children on a small tour. They introduced the security guards, explained who to ask for help if they got lost or hurt, where they were allowed to go and what areas were off limits, and how they would be getting to school. Peter didn’t pay too much attention though. He was too excited, taking in the sight of the tower, his hero, and thinking about how cool it was that this would be his home for a little while. He was certain nobody was luckier.

“Mr. Stark?” one of the other boy’s- Mikey- asked when they passed one of the labs they were being shown on their little tour.

“Yes?”

“Where’s your Iron Man suit?”

Tony chuckled. “It’s in my private lab, away from anybody’s hands that aren’t mine. Don’t want anything breaking them.”

“Not the Mark 50,” Peter asked softly before he could stop himself.

“Huh?” Tony’s piercing gaze was turned to him. 

Squirming under the sudden attention, he tugged on his shirt. “W-well, the nanite suit, sir. Unless a person broke the actual nanite robot, the suit could just be reformed.”

“You know about nanites?”

Chocolate curls flying, the boy nodded enthusiastically. He couldn’t help himself once someone got him talking about the things he loved. “Yeah! I did a report on them a month ago. I read all your papers on them, and I even started trying to make my own so that I could-” Blushing furiously under his hero’s appraisal, Peter cut himself off and ducked his head. “Sorry.”

But Tony Stark didn’t look angry. “I’m gonna give you a piece of advice, kid: never apologize for being the smartest in the room.” He winked. “You really read my work on nanotechnology?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m impressed.”

And Peter was grateful that his legs didn’t give out right then. He could hardly believe the compliment. He was dazed for the rest of the tour, soaking the praise in with a huge grin.

Eventually, they arrived at their floor. It was a large one, and after the Battle of New York, it had stood mostly empty. There was a spacious living area and a small kitchen, and then a hallway with three bedrooms and en-suite bathrooms.

“Now, you’re going to have to share,” Tony explained. “We don’t have seven rooms on this floor, but each room has a bed and desk for you.”

“You three girls will share a room while the boys will split up in twos,” Pepper added. She gestured to one of the rooms. “This one’s yours, girls. It’s a little bigger and we’ve put three beds in it. Boys, you can decide which of the other rooms you want and who you want to share it with.”

Joselyn, along with the other two girls Kaylie and Hazel, dragged their suitcases and chatted excitedly as they entered their room.  If it had been possible, Peter would have roomed with Joselyn...or Ned. But those two not being an option, he looked to the boys.

He was the oldest out of all of them. There was the four year old Greyson and the six year old twins Mikey and David. It was fairly obvious that the twins would stick together, so Peter took Grey’s hand.

“Can I be your roommate, buddy?” The little boy nodded enthusiastically. “It looks like the twins took the middle room, so we get this one!”

The boy genius led his new roommate through the door and for the second time that day felt his jaw drop. 

The room was huge, and the beds looked like they were clouds, piled high with pillows Peter was almost certain were the most comfortable things on the planet. Grey seemed equally as overwhelmed, walking over to inspect the bed.

“Can you help me put my clothes away?” he asked, turning to the older boy.

“Sure.”

And slowly they got settled into this new chapter of their lives.

*** 

Tony was about ready to throw something at the wall, which meant that he needed to get out and move around, distract himself from the problem before he actually did break something. It wouldn’t be the first time, but he didn’t want a repeat of the great Potts meltdown of ‘09. 

Sighing, he stood up and stretched, letting a loud yawn out as he did before wandering out of the lab. 

It had been nearly a week with the little kiddos staying at the tower, and Tony had enjoyed having them so far. He even invited them up for dinner and a movie the other day. Most of them had been totally starstruck and it had made him smile. He figured they might provide a decent distraction, so he wandered down to the “baby floor,” as he called it. 

He was delighted when the first face he saw was Peter Parker’s.

The boy was shy, but also unfailingly kind. Tony had seen him take the hand of the smallest boy when the two twin boys ran into their room, making the little one feel welcome and loved; had watched as the kid listened to his friend Joselyn, who tended to ramble, with a patient and kind smile, never seeming annoyed by how verbose she was; and had smiled as the kid let one of the other girls hold his hand during a part in Snow White that scared her.

He was exactly the sort of distraction that Tony needed.

“Hey, Pete. How’re you doing?” he greeted, smiling a little as the boy’s cheeks turned pink and his lips lifted in a small, excited grin when he was called by name.

“G-good, Mr. Stark. How are you?”

“I’m doing good. A little frustrated with a project I’m working on, so I figured I’d take a break and come see you kiddos. How was school? Learn anything good?”

Peter’s eyes lit up as they had the first day the older genius had met the kid and they bonded over nanotechnology. Tony smiled as the chatter about 2nd grade science (they were learning about cells) and math (how was an 8 year old already doing functions?!) swept his frustration right out the door with its soothing familiarity. He didn’t have to figure anything out or meet any deadline. All the kid wanted was someone to listen.

So Tony did, oohing and mmhmming in all the right places, until the kid asked: “So what project were you working on before? Maybe I can help so you’re not so frustrated? can I?”

He’d known how sweet Peter was, but Tony was still taken aback by the kindness. “Well, if you want to-“

“Sure!” The little eager beaver said quickly. “What’s the project?”

Hesitating only for a second, Tony explained how Clint’s explosive arrows weren’t working properly, detonating too soon because of an unstable chemical inside them.

With a few graphs and a little breaking down of some more technical terms, Peter understood the problem.

“Let me think a little bit, okay?”

“Sure, buddy,” Tony chuckled. “However long you need.”

And he let the kid think while he checked some emails and wandered into the kitchen to grab him and his mini genius a granola bar.

He stopped for a moment before joining Peter at the table, his steps halted by the adorable crease in the boy’s brow and the way his tongue poked through his teeth as he drew some diagram.

When Tony finally pulled himself together to sit down against and offer Peter the snack, the kid announced: “I got it!”

Surprised, Tony raised an eyebrow and motioned for Peter to continue.

“What if you use your nanites? You could engineer them in a way that they wouldn’t jostle or affect the catalyst. Clint could control when they fell away, which would cause the explosion to happen.”

He pushed the little picture he’d drawn to illustrate, compete with a stick figure Clint Barton in purple (Hawkeye’s theme color), and Tony let his jaw go slack.

“Kid, honestly, I’m impressed. That’s genius. How in the world did you think of that?”

Peter flushed under the praise, and explained the process to Tony, the latter encouraging him whenever he seemed self conscious about his rambling. 

“You, my friend, are one of the smartest kids I know. Would you like to help me build these arrows?”

Peter’s eyes widened to the size of a dinner plate. “What?”

Tony chucked. “They’re your idea, kiddo. It’s only right that you should help me make them. I’ll handle all the explosive parts, but I think you should help engineer the nanites.”

“I would love to!” The boy choked out.

“Great. After school tomorrow, come to my lab. Jarvis will know where to take you.”

“Okay!”

Tony stayed a little while longer, enjoying talking science with Peter, before being called to other projects. He was grateful for the distraction though, because he couldn’t wait to see the look on the kid’s face when he saw the lab.

And, boy, Peter did not disappoint.

When Jarvis opened the door, Peter’s jaw dropped and he practically flew to one of the Ironman suits. Talking a mile a minute, he inspected every inch of the lab. 

“Oh my gosh, what’s this?! Wait, no way, is that- it is! Mr. Stark this is amazing! And woah look at that!”

Tony just chuckled at the kid’s enthusiasm, and pulled his attention to the reason for their working together after a few more minutes’ exploration. 

The two spent hours in the lab together. Tony hadn't ever thought he would enjoy sharing his lab with anybody, let alone an 8-year-old child, but Peter was different. He found himself wanting Peter to come help him more often.

This is only temporary. A cynical voice inside him said.

Maybe it doesn’t have to be. Maybe I can give him a real internship and a real job? Said the more hopeful part of his brain.

A seven year old with a job. Yeah, that’s a great idea.

Tony shook his head to clear off the thoughts. He would enjoy the lab time he did get with this kid that had somehow wormed into his iron heart. He’d just have to baby proof the lab first.

***

Peter fought back the tears, trying hard not to let Flash’s taunting get to him. He kept walking, ignoring his classmate’s teasing behind his back as he nearly ran out the front door.

“Hi, Mr. Happy,” he greeted, trying to keep the sniffling out of his voice. The man Mr. Stark had assigned to drive him to and from school didn’t like little kids. (At least, Peter thought he didn’t. He wasn’t mean, but he seemed to grunt and growl more than use really words.)

“Hey,” Happy grunted, as was his usual greeting, and Peter didn’t notice the concern in the man’s eyes when he didn’t answer right away as he blinked back tears. 

The drive to the tower was quiet except for the occasional snuffle from Peter, who was trying to his sadness. He hated when Flash was mean, especially about his parents. He missed his parents and his Aunt and Uncle. It was right of Flash to bring them up, but there wasn’t much Peter could do about it.

When he came into the tower, he was surprised to see Mr. Stark there, waiting for him in the living room. Usually the man had him come straight to the lab, but they hadn’t been scheduled to work together that day.

“Hey, kid,” Tony greeted.

“H-hi. Are we having a Lab day today?” Peter tried to keep the hope out of his voice. Tinkering around the lab with his hero was exactly what he needed to cheer him up. 

“I was thinking we might spend some time in the lab, yeah. If you’re up for it?”

“Yeah, i'd love a lab day, sir!” Peter said, smiling his first genuine smile since Flash had said the word “orphan” at lunch.

“Yeah? Let’s go, young padawan.” 

Peter gave a small smile at the Star Wars reference. Mr. Stark wouldn’t have known that reference if Peter hadn’t rambled about the franchise one of their last Lab days, which then led to the man insisting they watch the movies together so Peter could “make sure he understood what was happening.” He was pleased Tony seemed to have enjoyed the endeavor! The pleasant feeling followed him as they went to the lab and began working on the housing unit for the nanites in Clint’s arrows.

Tony, however, kept a watchful eye on his little friend.

Happy had texted saying that something was off with the kid, and while Tony had no experience with children prior to the last few weeks, he did have experience with being a genius and an orphan. He figured tinkering would be a good distraction, and he’d wager he was correct after seeing the look of relief and excitement on Peter’s face when he was invited to the lab.

It wasn’t until they had the housing unit almost complete that Tony decided to actually broach the subject.

Though working with his hands seemed to have stemmed the tears Happy reported seeing in the car, the boy was definitely off. He sniffled more than once, and didn’t seem as talkative or enthusiastic as he normally did. There wasn’t a single excited ramble about his friends Ned or Jocelyn, or whatever the last thing they learned in science was.

“So, Peter. How was your day. You haven’t said much.”

Tony didn’t miss the tears that misted the boys eyes slightly 

“It was fine,” he said, turning back to his project with a barely concealed sniffle.

Tony felt slightly awkward and unsure. He’d never had a conversation like this with a little kid before. Heck, he was barely getting to the point of speaking openly to his girlfriend and best friend about some things. But if he wanted to someday have kids, he figured he’d need to start getting used to stuff like this. With a deep breath, he took the plunge.

“Buddy, if you don’t wanna talk about it, that’s okay. But, uh, if you do want to talk about whatever is bothering you, you can. I mean, I’m all ears or whatever. I can blast or make fun of or drown in ice cream nearly any problem you have.”

Peter hesitantly turned towards him. “I-it’s really nothing. I’m f-fine.”

“I’m real sure, kid,” Tony said, raising an eyebrow. “Seriously, is everything okay?” The hesitation in the boy’s eyes warred with the desire to tell what had happened. “C’mon. Out with it! The sooner I know who or what I need to blast, make fun of, or drown in ice cream, the better we’ll both feel.”

“W-well It’s this kid n-named Flash.” Peter began twisting his shirt into knots as he finally gave in. “He was just making fun of me for not having parents and he just b-bothered me more today, I guess.”

Tony’s heart squeezed in sympathy. He had plenty experience of his own being an orphan and dealing with bullies.

“Since I can’t blast a kid with my repulsars, although he maybe deserves it for being such a jerk,” he finally answered, “and I don’t feel right making fun of him, either, I’m going to settle with drowning it in ice cream. I know a great place just up the street, whaddya say?”

There was a small smile, which Tony saw as an absolute win, and then a shy nod, and Tony whisked the boy away for ice cream.

“Ya know, kid, none of what this Flash kid says is true,” he said as he licked his mint chip cone. “You’re not unlovable, or unworthy of parents. You didn’t do anything wrong the day they died. You couldn’t have been a better son. Trust me. All those things are utter nonsense.”

Peter stared at him dumbfounded. “H-how did you know?” He whispered.

“I’m an orphan too, ya know. I lost my parents many years ago, but I definitely know a little of what you’re feeling and dealing with.”

“Really?”

“I promise.”

“Thanks, Mr. Stark.”

“Anytime, kid. Anytime,” Tony said. “Now, are you drowning enough in ice cream? Do you need more chocolate sauce? You look like you need more chocolate sauce.”

Peter giggled, and Tony couldn’t help the slow smile that stole across his face as he went to go get more chocolate sauce, determined to keep that little boy smiling as long as possible.

***

“Um, can you find it in an aquarium?”

The science genius duo was enjoying their usual time in the lab and Tony had begun a session of “I’m thinking of an animal.” His animal was a hippo, which he’d felt fairly confident about until this last question.

“I don’t know, kiddo, I’ve never been to an aquarium!”

Dropping his jaw and his screwdriver, Peter spluttered out an incredulous, “what?”

“I’ve never been to an aquarium.” Tony shrugged.

“Oh, man. You don’t know what your missing, Mr. Stark! There’s fish and turtles and sometimes even hippos and alligators. My favorite are the turtles.” Peter's Big brown eyes widened and Tony grinned in anticipation of the child-like excitement that was sure to follow in whatever story the kid was going to tell next. “One time, there was this huge sea turtle and it came and swam next to the glass right where I was sitting for literally five minutes. My mom took tons of pictures. It was so cool!”

Tony chuckled. “That sounds really cool, bud.”

“It was! Did you know that some turtles only lay eggs every four years?”

They continued working and sharing weird animal facts and Tony was again startled by the desire to make this little kid smile. 

“Jarvis, buddy, can you look up the nearest aquarium?” He asked when Peter had left to go to bed.

“That would be the New York Aquarium.”

“Does it have turtles?”

“It does.”

“Hippos?”

“No, sir. But the Philadelphia Aquarium does.”

“Get two tickets to the New York one for this Saturday. And clear my schedule for that day.”

“With pleasure, sir.”

A few days later, Tony was nearly bouncing with excitement as he waited for Jarvis to bring Peter up to the penthouse for them to go to the aquarium.

“Mr. Stark, is everything okay?” The boy asked as he exited the elevator.

“Yeah, kiddo. Everything’s just fine. We’re going on a little field trip, though.”

“We are?” Peter’s eyes lit up. “Where to?”

“That’s a surprise!” Peter’s grin widened to match Tony’s. “My schedule’s all clear. You good to go?”

With a floppy-haired nod, they were off. 

The little boy had no clue where they were going, and Tony indulged 20 questions, but by the time they arrived, Peter was no closer to figuring it out.

“Wait...an aquarium?” He gasped when he got out and took in the building.

“They don’t have hippos or alligators, but they just got a couple turtles. I figured after hearing about how wonderful aquariums are, I should try and go to one, and I thought you could show me around.”

Peter didn’t hesitate one moment, unabashedly grabbing Tony’s hand and pulling him into the aquarium. They presented their tickets and the younger genius continued to drag the older genius around from exhibit to exhibit with huge smiles on both their faces. Like Peter, Tony’s favorite part were the turtles. The way they gravefully swam through the water and their kind faces made him feel peaceful and warm and fuzzy. And Peter’s little hand in his while he spouted off lots of facts about turtles made him feel even more so.

But the kids were leaving within the next couple weeks, and those pesky thoughts were back, marring the joy a little. Tony dutifully beat them back, aided by the peaceful feeling of being with Peter and the kid’s head modded off onto his shoulder on the way back to the tower.

***

Peter had nightmares more than he wanted to admit. 

They woke him up shaking with his heart beating so fast and hard he could hear it in his ears. The worst part about them, though, was how they would linger, seared into his eyelids. Scary images of his parents and aunt and uncle as their plane went down in flames replayed themselves over and over. 

Sniffling back tears, Peter decided to quietly sneak out of the room. He didn’t want to wake his little roommate.

“Hello, Peter,” Jarvis greeted, making him jump even though he knew the AI well. (Tony had even started helping Peter code his own when the boy showed interest.)

“H-Hey, Jarvis.”

“It is quite late for you to be up. Or early, depending how you look at it. Are you well?”

“Just can’t sleep. I’m heading for a snack, that’s all.”

“I think I have something that might help, if you’ll follow me, sir.”

The AI lit up a pathway and Peter shrugged before following it. He thought Jarvis would lead him to the kitchen, but instead he found himself staring at a door that definitely wasn’t for a kitchen. He’d never been to this part of the tower.

“Uh, where am I?”

“You’re outside Mr. Stark’s bedroom.”

His stomach flipped like a monkey after a banana, and Peter stumbled backwards. 

“Jarvis,” he hissed. “I can’t wake Iron Man up! Why’d you take me here. I thought you were bringing me to the kitchen for a snack!”

“I did not say that I was, only that I had something I thought would help.”

“No, I’m not going in there. I’ll find the kitchen myself,” he said, backing away as quickly as he could. 

But it was too late. 

A light flicked on and before Peter could turn around, the door opened to reveal a sweatpants-clad Tony Stark.

“Peter? What’s going on?”

“I’m so sorry Mr. Stark.” Peter’s voice was shaking and tear were burning his eyes. He’d gotten closer to the man the last month and a half they’d been together, but this was beyond embarrassing. He couldn’t ask Iron man to help him with his nightmares. “I couldn’t sleep and thought Jarvis was leading me to a kitchen for a snack.”

“No worries kid. C’mon. I’ll make you something to eat.”

“Y-You really don’t have to do that, Mr. Stark. I’m okay, I swear.”

Tony rolled his eyes, ruffling Peter’s curls and throwing an arm around the kid’s shoulders to lead him down the hallway. “It’s not a problem, buddy. I don’t mind cooking.”

So Peter was lead to the kitchen, and he was surprised how much better he was feeling not being alone. This was the second time Mr. Stark had saved him from being alone like this, and it felt really nice. He would miss it when he went back to living at the orphanage in a few weeks when the renovations were done. Sometimes, he would imagine what it would be like if Mr. Stark was his real dad, or adopted him, but he knew that would never happen. He usually tried to stop those daydreams fast.

“Thank you, Mr. Stark. That looks really good,” Peter said, breaking out of his thoughts to take the toast with butter and jelly that he was offered.

It was quiet as Peter ate, Tony sitting next to him in companionable silence. Once the plate was empty, the bolder genius spoke up. “Again, kiddo, you do not need to explain, but if you want to talk about what’s got you up at nearly 2 in the morning, I’m all ears.”

Peter felt tears well up in his eyes. He had done so well not crying in front of his hero and he didn’t want to start now. He closed his eyes and clenched his fists to keep the tears from falling, but he was grateful to talk to someone.

“Um, I keep having dreams about- about my parents. The, uh, the day they went on the plane that crashed? And they just make me sad.” He shrugged. “S-Sometimes it’s hard to go back to sleep after I have one.”

“I have dreams like that, too,” Tony whispered.

Just like when the man had practically read his mind, saying exactly what Peter had needed to hear when Flash made fun of him the last week, a shock went up Peter’s spine. “Really?”

Tony sighed. “Yeah, I do. I lost my parents, too. Car accident. I also have dreams about being stuck in Afghanistan, in that cave, or in the wormhole. They’regetting better, though.”

“That must be really scary, Mr. Stark,” Peter said, patting the man’s arms.

“Heh. I’m supposed to be the one comforting you, kiddo.”

“Well, we all need comfort sometimes.”

“Thank you, buddy. How are you feeling?”

Peter looked up shyly. “Better. Thanks for the food.”

“No problem. Wanna watch something? That usually helps me fall back asleep.”

“Okay!”

They chose Iron Giant, and Peter felt so comfortable as Tony threw a blanket over him and pulled him under his arm. Slowly, his eyes drifted closed.

Tony watched as the little boy fell asleep, his heart melting and wrapping around his finger even more. After a few minutes to make sure the tyke would stay asleep if moved, he slipped his arms around the little body and carried him up to bed.

As he closed the door and saw Peter’s chocolate curls poking over the blanket, his tears prickled with tears at the realization he would lose this in a couple days.

Shut up he vehemently told that pesky little voice, and went back to bed, but didn’t get much sleep.

*** 

There were tears in everyone’s eyes, but Tony was going to blame it on May, who greeted him with tears of gratitude. All the kids gave her hugs before running off to explore the new building, chatting excitedly as they ran to the new beds and play area.

“Mr. Stark-“

“Tony, please, May.”

She smiled. “Tony. Seriously, though, I cannot thank you enough. You have no idea how much this means to us. How much this means to me.”

See, this is why he was blaming May for the misty eyes. “Not a problem. The pleasure was all mine. It’s a special group of kiddos you got there.”

“They really are. And thanks to your help, the orphanage got some media attention, and now I’ve got people interested in the twins and a couple of the girls! I hope they all find good homes.”

“That’s amazing, May!” Tony said, and he meant it. Every single one of the kids had found a way into his heart, but none more than Peter. And the thought of that little boy going to another home caused another round of tears to come, though he quickly blinked them away.

“Mr. Stark!” As if called by Tony’s thoughts, Peter came bounding up, throwing a hug around the man’s waist. “This is amazing. Not as amazing as the tower, obviously, but this is a close second. Thank you so much!”

Tony hugged the boy back and assured him that he was happy to help, all the while trying to pretend his heart wasn’t breaking.

***

“Tony, this is ridiculous,” Pepper said, marching into his lab after the fourth day in a row of him being there. 

“What is, dear?” He asked, deflecting as usual.

Pepper raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her crisp blue suit. Even under her scrutinous glare, Tony had to admit she was gorgeous.

“You know what, dear. Peter’s gone and you’re back to moping in the lab.”

Acid curled his stomach, and he had to look away. “Well, what do you want me to do. Yeah, I miss the kid, and I’m trying to work through it. Just...just give me few more days.”

“You won’t survive another few days, Tony. You’re not invincible, you know.” She came over and ran a comforting hand through his hair, and his eyes closed of their own accord, trying to hide the tears. “Tony, what if...what if we adopt Peter?”

His eyes shot open. “What?”

“What if we adopt Peter?” She repeated. “You clearly love him, and I’ve watched him with you. He loves you, too. And I...I don’t know him as well as you do, but he’s so sweet and it’s impossible not to love him.”

“You’re serious?”

Pepper smiled. “100%. Tony, you’re ready. We’re ready. Let’s start a family.”

And just like in his dream, Tony couldn’t say or anything except pick his girlfriend up and spin her around.

“Thank you,” he said, tears in his eyes again. “I love you.”

***

Peter loved the new orphanage. He really did. The beds were as comfortable as the tower’s, and there were lots of cool toys and a new playground.

But Mr. Stark wasn’t there.

Peter tried to deny how much he missed him. How much he missed his own dad and how Mr. Stark helped fill that void a little with lab days and movie nights. He’d even helped Peter when Flash was mean and he’d had a nightmare.

And he missed him.

It also didn’t help that Jocelyn and Greyson got adopted, and the twins might be as well. People had been buzzing at the orphanage ever since the renovations. The media had run a few stories on how the genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist had taken in the group of orphans and funded the renovations of the building. People had been coming ever since, but none of them really connected with Peter.

He hated to admit it, but he compared all of them to Mr. Stark, and none of the fit. Besides, they all wanted the younger kids.

“Peter!” May called, interrupting his moping. “Come here, sweetie.”

“Coming, May!” 

He jumped off the swing set, running towards the orphanage, but screeched to a halt as he saw a familiar face. Two familiar faces.

“M-Mr. S-Stark? Mrs. Potts?” He stammered out. “W-what’re you doing here?”

“Hey, kiddo,” Tony greeted. He looked nervous- a hand running over his carefully defined goatee, feet shifting back and forth, fingers clasped with Pepper’s.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, buddy, everything’s fine. We, uh, we were wondering if,” he hesitated and Pepper squeezed his hand. “We would like to adopt you, Peter. If that’s something you’d be interested in?”

Shocked, Peter couldn’t say anything, which was a rare thing for him. Or so his parents used to say.

“Really?” He finally choked out.

“Yeah, sweetie,” pepper said, smiling kindly. Peter was surprised. He’d gotten close with Tony, but not as much with her.

“I don’t know what to say.”

Tony grinned at him. “Well, say yes, buddy! We got a room all ready for you and a team of the best lawyers to make it official if you want.”

“Yes!” Peter said, throwing himself into their arms. “Yes, I want to!”

Again, everybody was crying (happy tears) and once all the paperwork was filled out, Tony took Peter’s hand.

“Let’s go home,” he said, his heart at peace finally, the nagging sensation of something missing finally filled by the little boy who was now his little boy.

“Home,” Peter repeated, smiling. His new favorite word.

[betwecouldmakesome]

car full of moments untold

fandom: julie and the phantoms

pairing: luke/reggie/alex and julie/flynn

word count: 3,656

read here on ao3:  https://archiveofourown.org/works/27090439                         

Julie watches critically as Luke and Reggie seemingly play Tetris with everyone’s bags to get them to fit into the trunk of Alex’s Subaru outback. She isn’t sure why they have so much packed, they only plan on being gone 3 weeks. Flynn made sure to mark where their route and local laundry mats overlap so lack of clean clothes shouldn’t be an issue.

She also has a sneaking suspicion that one of Luke’s duffle bags is entirely beanies. She’s going to let it slide, knowing she’ll end up borrowing them.

She, however, won’t let whatever Reggie is trying and failing to smuggle into the car by hiding it behind his leather jacket, slide.

“Reginald!” Julie calls as she pushes off from the garage she was leaning against, hiding her smile when he jumps and flails. He looks to Luke for help, who shrugs and gives him a look, one she knows means “you’re on your own dude” before he heads back inside.

Reggie leans against the car and brings his hand up to hold his leather jacket closer to him, “Hey! Julie, fancy seeing you here, how’s it going? I’m doing fantastic, totally not doing anything."

“Whatcha got there?” she asks, purposefully ignoring his question and pointedly looks at his hand. Now that she’s closer, she can make out that the something he is holding is moving.

“What? this?” He lifts his hand and chuckles nervously before rubbing at the back of his neck, “it’s just uh, my binder? Yeah! my binder! I wanted to make sure I have a few extras on the trip just in case?” It sounded more like a question then anything.

Julie hums, knowing the boys made sure their binders were the first bags packed. They even checked to make sure they were in the car three times.

It only takes 13 seconds of making direct eye contact with him before he cracks, which to be fair, is a new record for him.

“Okay! Stop giving me the disappointed mom face.” Reggie sighs. He pulls his hand out from underneath his jacket, revealing Miss Petunia, his pet corn snake.

Julie continues to stare at him, slowly raising her eyebrows higher.

“Okay! Okay I’m going” He turns around heading back inside, presumably to give Petunia to Carlos who agreed to take care of her while they were away.

Julie sighs, this is going to be a long trip.

                                     «»

They haven’t even made it out of Los Angeles before it starts.

“Why does Luke get shotgun?” Reggie complains, shoving his upper body between the two front seats.

“Because I won rock-paper-scissors.” Luke says, shoving Reggie back by his forehead. He sounded way too proud for someone who won a child’s game that involves no skill.

“Why is that how we always decide things? I always lose” Reggie pouts, crossing his arms across his chest. 

“That’s why we do.” Luke laughs, quickly flattening himself against the door when Reggie lurches forward again.

“Hey! Cut it out. Reggie put your seatbelt on, you can switch with him when we stop.” Alex interjects, his gaze flickering between the road and Reggie.  

                                   «»

They’ve only been back on the highway ten minutes when Julie slurps down the rest of her slushie, noisily sucking on air at the end. It only takes a few seconds of her shifting around before she leans forward and announces her need to pee. Reggie and Luke quickly agree with her, although Luke looks sheepish about it.

“Seriously?” Flynn asks, raising a less than impressed eyebrow.

“Why didn’t you go at the gas station?” Alex also is not impressed but his eyebrows are less expressive then Flynn’s.

“I didn’t have to go then” Julie defends, Luke and Reggie nod in agreement.

“This is why Flynn is my favorite.” Alex complains. Although he changes lanes to get off at the next exit, so it doesn’t hold much weight

                                  «»

It is pushing half past nine before Alex decides they’re done for the day. They planned on driving until eleven but there are only so many road games that he can take. If he had to listen to one more game of eye spy, he was going to drive them straight off a bridge. Flynn, the goddess she is, finds them a motel to stay in with two available rooms and reads off the directions to him.

For the first time since they left, silence takes over the car when they pull up to the motel. The place is creepy looking, like straight out of a horror movie.

After spending about a good twenty minutes trying to convince Reggie the motel is not haunted and that they won’t die, they cautiously make their way up the old rickety stairs leading to the second floor. They all jump when a loud clang echoes out from the alleyway and quickly scuffle up the rest of the stairs and into their respective rooms.

Alex lets out a relieved sigh, locking the door behind them and looks around the room. It’s not as bad as he was expecting. There is a weird smell he can’t, and doesn’t, want to identify, but it looks relatively clean.

Reggie comes out of the bathroom with Luke right behind him, both now having taken off their binders, changed into pajamas, and brushed their teeth. Reggie drops his backpack at the end of the bed and flops next to it, immediately grabbing the tv remote, “I’m so tired, driving is exhausting.”

Luke shoves at Reggie till he groans and moves to the top of the bed. Reggie takes the side farthest from the door and Luke lays beside him, taking the middle as he called dibs on it, “You didn’t even drive, Alex did all the work.”

Alex listens to them bicker while he brushes his teeth, dreading going back out there. He might have been the one to convince Reggie the motel wasn’t haunted but that does not mean he wants to sleep closest to the door. He spits out the mouthwash and heads back into their room, not at all surprised to see Reggie already asleep cuddled into Luke who looks seconds away from passing out himself. Alex smiles softly and shuts off the lights, he leaves the tv on but turns the volume down. He slides in next to Luke, who immediately, even in his half-asleep state wraps his arm around him and pulls Alex closer to him, burying his face into Alex’s neck. It doesn’t take Alex long to fall asleep, the comfort of laying with his boyfriends outweighing the worry of being haunted.                           

                                  «»

Julie and Flynn wait till ten am for the boys to wake up before giving up and going to explore the town on their own. They walk down main street, hands intertwined, weaving their way through the crowds of people, stopping at any store that catches their eye.

So far, they had stopped at a local café for coffee, a bookstore where they got books for themselves and for each of the boys. Their favorite spot so far was a thrift store that they spent most of their morning trying on the most ridiculous clothing items they could find. and were now googling places they could go next.

Flynn keeps her attention on her phone as she walks, googling places they could go next. She glances up once and awhile but mostly relying on Julie to make sure she doesn’t run face first into a pole. She hums in question when Julie tugs at her arm, only to get her arm tugged on harder in response.

“Look!”

“What? Is there another dog in a stroller?” she asks, locking her phone and sliding it into her back pocket.

Julie grins and points across the street, “We have to go there.”

Flynn eyes where Julie is pointing and grins back at her, letting Julie pull her across the street to where a tiny tourist trap store is.

The bell rings when they push open the door. The person behind the counter jumps at their arrival, startled by the bell, and plasters a smile on their face before just nodding at them in greeting and goes back to flipping through their magazine.

They decide to split up and peruse the shelves for Knick Knacks. Looking for gifts for their families and funny things for the boys.

Julie ends up getting Carlos a snow globe with a ghost inside, her dad a joke book, a pair of earrings for her tía, some shoelaces with rainbows on them for Alex, and two cowboy hats for Luke and Reggie. 

Flynn gets her mom a scented candle gift set, her dad a 1,000-piece puzzle of the town, her older brothers each a screaming goat figurine and a world’s okayest brother coffee mug, an assorted pack of stickers for cryptids for Alex, a pair of socks with ostriches on them for Luke, and a kid leash for Reggie.

 (She got him a stuffed horse as a real gift but the look on his face, and the laughter from everyone else, when she hands him the leash is worth spending the extra money.)                                                                                                  

                                  «»

It takes 3 days and too many coffees and red bulls for them to get Alex to let Julie drive. 

It takes an additional 15 minutes for them to convince him that they will not, under any circumstances, let Luke drive, before he hands over the keys and climbs into the back with Luke and Reggie, falling asleep in seconds.                                                                                                                                     

                                   «»

They are somewhere in Arizona when it becomes evident that it is too hot to keep driving. The temperature pushing 106° Fahrenheit and they are sweating through their t-shirts, hair sticking to the nape of their necks. They are practically all climbing over each other to get out of the car when Alex slows to a stop, having found a river nearby to stop at. Reggie and Luke collapse on the grass under the shade of a tree, leaving Alex, Flynn, and Julie to rummage through the bags for their bathing suits. They jerk upwards with a yelp when Julie throughs their swim trunks and tank tops at them, managing to hit them right in the face.

Luke is the first one changed and immediately runs towards the water. He dives under as soon as it’s deep enough before coming up again just as quick, a wide grin on his face as he shakes out his hair.

“Last one in has to pay for dinner!” He yells out.

The rest of them all share a look before sprinting towards him, letting out battle cry’s as they hit the water                                                                                                                                    

                                    «»

After spending a few hours having chicken fights and wading through the water they decide to camp out beside the river for the night. Alex makes a quick trip to the nearest store to get the supplies to make sandwiches and s’mores, Reggie and Flynn oversee the fire while Luke and Julie set up their sleeping bags.

They settle into their sleeping bags, the sound of crickets chirping, the river flowing, and the crackling of dying embers from fire the only noise, everyone silent as they look up at the stars. It’s dark, the fire barely going anymore, the moon and bright stars now their only light source. It’s peaceful and reassuring in a way the city could never be.

“What if we didn’t go back?” It’s Luke who whispers it, but it doesn’t matter, they were all thinking it, this is the most relaxed they’ve felt in forever.                                                                                                                           

                                     «»

They take lots of pictures during their trip, snapping them whenever they get a chance. Photos of Luke, Flynn, and Julie passed out in the back seat, cuddled up and drooling on each other. Videos of Reggie yelling “Horses!” and pressing his face against the window every time they drive by any and Alex saying “if you do that one more time, I swear I’m going to crash the car” every time. They take pictures of themselves at every state sign they pass, and every landmark they visit. They take pictures of the scenery, the sun rising and setting. There are videos of them singing along to the radio at the top of their lungs. They have videos of every dumb stunt the others try, videos of them joking and laughing. They take as many as they can, trying to capture every moment, hoping to savor as much as they can.                                                                                                                                       

                                    «»

It takes Julie and Flynn 5 days to realize Reggie and Alex never call their parents.

It takes a few more for them to realize Luke doesn’t answer when his do.                                                                                                                                      

                                    «»

Julie and Flynn are leaning against each other drifting in and out of sleep, Luke already snoring in the passenger seat when they get startled awake by Alex swearing loudly and slamming on his breaks before making a U-turn.

“Alex! What the hell?” Julie yells, smacking the back of his headrest repeatedly.

He swats at her hand halfheartedly, “We forgot Reggie at the last stop!” 

They all exchange a look, knowing they will never hear the end of this.                                                                                                                                      

                                  «»

Alex knows, rationally that it’s dumb to worry. Reggie can take care of himself, but there’s still a hollow feeling in his stomach as he pulls back into the run-down gas-station. He sure they’ll laugh about it later, just another funny story to tell, but the silence that hangs in the air as they pull in to see Reggie nowhere in sight is chilling.

As soon as the car is in park, they all spill out, running across the parking lot and into the building.

Reggie is fine, of course. They find him sitting on the checkout counter, kicking his legs back and forth as he chats with the cashier who’s working. He beams when he notices them, waving at them with the hand he is holding a hotdog in.

“Hey guys!” 

Alex is the first one to react. He rushes forward and pulls Reggie into a tight hug, lifting him right off the counter, “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

Reggie hugs him back at laughs against his neck. “Took you long enough.”                                                                                                                                     

                                   «»

They get ten miles down the road before Reggie clutches his stomach and groans, “I’m gonna hurl.”

They pull over three more times for him to throw up before deciding to stop for the night.

Reggie swears that he is never eating another hotdog again.                                                                                                                                     

                                  «»

It’s six am, raining and gloomy out as they leave the motel. It is entirely too early after checking in after midnight. Alex wordlessly hands the keys to Julie and climbs into the back, Reggie and Luke both still half asleep following him.

They don’t wake up for another few hours and even then, it’s not by choice, it’s by the girls shaking them awake. Flynn hands the cardboard tray with 3 coffees back to them and goes back to quietly talking to Julie.

Reggie yawns and takes a sip of theirs, leaning forward after to kiss the girls on the cheek in thanks.

“It’s a Them day.” They say, slouching back against Luke. They only stay awake long enough to hear the groups hums or mumbled “okay’s” in acknowledgment.                                                                                                                               

                                   «»

They get a flat tire in the middle of nowhere. A straight stretch of road going for miles and big open fields going as far as they can see.

“Shit,” Alex swears under his breath and looks to Reggie hopefully, who shakes his head and looks to Luke, only to get a sheepish shrug in response.

“Shit.” Alex repeats, louder this time.

Julie and Flynn exchange a glance before rolling up their sleeves, “We’ve got this, boys.”

“How did you know how to do that?” Reggie asks in awe, as the girls stand back up while wiping the dirt of their hands. The flat tire now replaced by the spare.

“My mom taught us.”

“We’d be lost without you.” Luke grins.

Flynn pulls him into a side hug and ruffles his hair, “Damn right you would.”                                                                                                                                    

                                    «»

Alex pokes at the paint on his cheeks, checking to see if it was dry. He had rainbow stripes on one side, and purple, white, and green on the other. He had been the one put in charge of doing everyone’s face paint and he had waited to do his own last. Luke had the demiboy flag painted on one cheek and the ace flag on the other. His nails painted pink, yellow, and blue, and is wearing a crop top with a trans flag wrapped around him like a cape. Reggie had Alex paint the genderfluid flag and trans flag onto his face, and his nails painted with the bi flag colors. Julie has the demigirl colors on one cheek and the bi colors on the other, with an ace flag wrapped around her. Flynn has dark orange, light orange, white, pink, and dark pink, representing the lesbian flag painted onto both cheeks.

Alex reaches around Reggie to grab his trans flag, the last part of his outfit, and wraps it around his shoulders. 

Julie claps her hands together, getting everybody’s attention, “Everyone ready?”

Reggie lets out a shout of excitement, grabbing Alex and Luke’s hands, lacing his fingers with their own and tugging them out the door. Julie and Flynn follow them, shaking their heads and laughing as they watch all three of them try and walk down the narrow staircase side by side.                                                                                                                                      

                                   «»

“I’m dying.” Reggie gasps out, dramatically flinging themself over a rock.

“We’re almost there, it’s just a few more minutes.” Julie reassures them, the rest of the group taking the opportunity to stop and rest. All of them had woken up at five am to hike a mountain and watch the sun rise. The trail was about two miles, and this was the third time Reggie had announced that they were dying, although this one was more dramatic than the others.

“You’ve been saying that for the last 20 minutes!”

“Well this time I mean it.”

“Luke.” Reggie whines, drawing out the name as they shift their gaze to Luke, who is pouring some of his water over his head.

“No.” 

“Babe! Please, I’m dying here.”

Luke sighs and rolls his eyes before crouching down, not being able to resist Reggie’s puppy dog eyes, “Hop on.”

Reggie cheers, jumping up onto his back, “Have I told you how much I love you?”

“I think you should remind me.” Luke grins, tilting his head back towards Reggie.

“Maybe I will.” They laugh, leaning forward and press their lips against Luke’s, smiling into the kiss.

“Hey!” Alex calls after them, “I’d like to be reminded too.”

“You were going to let me die, you don’t get any kisses.” Reggie looks back over their shoulder, sticking their tongue out at him.

“Well I’m the one carrying the food so maybe you should reconsider.”

“Are you bribing me?”

“I don’t know, is it working?” Alex asks.

“Yes. Yes, it is.” Reggie slaps at Luke’s shoulder, telling him to let them down.

Julie and Flynn make their way around them, wanting to make it to the top of the mountain in time.

Reggie skips down to Alex and wraps their arms around Alex’s neck, pulling him down to kiss them.

“So, can I have a snack now?”

                                   «»

“Guys,” Flynn looks at the scene before her in exasperation, “I was gone for literally five minutes.”

“We know, help now scold later.” Reggie shifts, trying to yank his foot out for underneath Julie

“How did you even manage this?”

“We couldn’t decide which one of us got to sit in the cart and we thought we could all fit.” Julie peaks her head out from behind Luke. She blows a piece of hair out of her face so she can see, only for it to fall right back.

“You too, Alex?” Flynn asks.

Alex shrugs, looking guilty, “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“You’re apart of a human pretzel!”

“We won’t do it again, just get us out. I have to pee, and Luke is crushing my bladder.”

“Hey! at least you don’t have Reggie’s knees in your back,” Luke argues, “and I’m not even that- wait, Flynn are you taking pictures?”

“Oh yeah, definitely” She nods.                                                                                                                                       

                                   «» 

“That’s the fourth store we’ve gotten kicked out of this week.” Flynn complains, glaring at the grocery store.

“That’s not too bad.”

“Luke, It’s Wednesday.”

                                     «»

They sit on a pier in silence, feet dangling off the edge as they lean with their upper bodies over the bottom railing. The sun is setting, gradually receding into the waters below. The sky is more purple than red now, further indicating that their night is coming to an end. 

It had been a few hours since they made their way away from the carnival that was bustling with activity to somewhere quieter. Further away from the bright lights and loud music, the yells excitement and overwhelming noise of big crowds of people all talking and closer to the sounds of waves crashing against shore and seagulls squawking.

Julie picks at her cotton candy, ripping a piece off and hands it to Alex, who accidently dropped his into the ocean below them.

“Maybe we don’t go back.” Again, It’s Luke who says it. He sounds more confident this time.

“Are parents would kill us,” Alex says. He looks down awkwardly when Luke looks at him pointedly. 

“Okay, Ray would kill us.”

“Hey! Ray’s cool, he would never.” Reggie objects.

“We can’t just not go back, right?” Alex looks around at each of them, “Could we?”

Flynn shrugs, “I hear Maine is really pretty in the Fall.”

                                    «»

Ray is cool and he does not kill them. His exact response is “I get it, I’ll miss you! Stay safe and be careful. Send post cards. And because I’m being so cool about it, you get to be the one to tell your tía.”                                                                                                            

[shimmershaewrites]

A Matching Set (Caryl Post Season 10 One Shot + Grimes babies + Lydia and some Aaron).

Just a little tooth-rotting fluff I found on my hard drive half finished.  Kinda, sorta Christmas fic but not.  Read it.  You’ll see.  Sorry not sorry.  

“Play lots of Tetris as a kid?”  

 The mountain man beard does precious little to hide Aaron’s brief grin as he waits for Daryl to add more to that blurted, out of the blue question.  

 Daryl doesn’t blame him.  They ain’t talked a lick since they set off beyond Alexandria’s gates with a wobbly ass wheelbarrow and an ax in dire need of sharpening.  Once or twice, Aaron’s hummed a few notes of a couple vaguely familiar Christmas tunes, but other than that?  Radio silence.  Surprise or not, however, he figures the question’s pretty on point.  Especially considering their current means of passing the dwindling daylight hours.  “So.  Did ya?” he asks again, blue eyes averted and squinting as they search out any signs of potential danger, human or otherwise. Nothing’s there.  Hasn’t been since they took the head of the last Whisperer snake, but old habits?  They die hard.  And if they’ve kept his heart beating this long, he’s not looking to abandon them. ‘Sides.  If there were anything out there, he has no doubts Dog would be the first to alert them.  Provided, of course, he wakes his lazy ass up in time.      

 Rising and carefully slotting the last piece of tinder into place atop their firewood pyramid, Aaron lets his own eyes flit over the gray horizon.  “See anything?”  Soon as Daryl shakes his head, he allows his shoulders to relax.  Then he laughs to himself quietly.  “As a matter of fact, I did play.  You?”  

 Breath whining past his chapped lips, Daryl doesn’t respond.  He’s too focused on heaving the wheelbarrow out of the mud that’s caked around its wheels, his boots, even the abandoned ax.  Loaded down as it is, shit’s definitely heavier than it looks, and he gives up, at least momentarily.  “That the last of it?”  

 Aaron nods, bending to reclaim the ax.  “That’s the last of it.”  Daryl’s muttered thank fuck has his eyes crinkling in a way they haven’t in ages, at least not in the presence of anybody but Gracie.  “Need a little help?”  

 It takes the both of them working together to get the wheelbarrow out of the rut and bumping along the path home.  They’ve been walking a while, Dog trotting on ahead, before Daryl picks the dangling thread of conversation back up.  “Played,” he admits.  “Hell else was detention good for?”  

 “Homework,” Aaron quips.  

 “Pfft.  Bet your ass was the permanent hall monitor.”

 “You’re looking at a Hall of Famer.”  

 Daryl simply smirks.  

 “Ah, the Daryl Dixon approximation of a belly laugh.  I’m breathing rarified air.”  When his teasing is merely taken in stride, his steps start to slow and he regards Daryl with something akin to wonder.  Dog even turns back to stare.  

 Feeling his friend’s eyes boring a hole in him, Daryl mutters, “Hell you staring at? Wanna trade places?”  

 Aaron takes but a second to consider the offer.  “I think I’ll pass.”  

 “No shit. Figured you’d say…”  

 “Carol prefers you.”  

    ---

 The sky’s bleached of any color by the time Daryl’s finally headed home.  The streets of Alexandria empty.  

 No wonder because there’s a storm blowing in.  First one in what promises to be a long winter season.  At least according to their self-appointed weather man Eugene.

 Personally? Daryl thinks it’s all some grade A bullshit.  Pouring over half a dozen dusty old Farmers’ Almanacs like they hold the answers. Plotting random patterns and pieces of data on time-yellowed paper in chicken scratch that would have put Merle’s own to shame.  He doesn’t need or believe any of it because he can feel it in his aging bones like some kind of wizened old wizard.  Course, it doesn’t take much these days to make old hurts echo.  And the cold he’s feeling now?  It chills his blood.  Makes him ache and wish to high hell he’d worn the ridiculous hat Carol had tried to shove down over his ears this afternoon before he and Aaron had left out. Embarrassing piece of yarn might have come in handy filtering out the hollow, haunted whistle of the wind, but damn if he was going to sacrifice his dignity like that.  Wearing a whole-ass pom-pom on top of his head.  A rainbow one at that.  Nah.  Weren’t all that long a walk from Aaron’s.  “Almost there,” he reminds himself.  “Almost.”      

 Dog’s got a little extra giddy-up in his step as he trots ahead.  

 The mutt looks back and whines as if to tell Daryl hurry and Daryl can’t help but huff something resembling a laugh as he reshuffles the load of firewood stacked clear to his chin to get a better grip.  His breath fogs in front of him like thick, odorless cigarette smoke and shit.  His fingers might be halfway numb, but they twitch reflexively for the vice he hasn’t allowed himself to indulge in months.  Shaking his head, he includes Dog when he grumbles.  “Getting soft.”  

 Dog hangs back and stares him down as if to say speak for yourself.  

 “Ain’t the only one,” Daryl generously allows when a particularly biting gust of wind swirls around them both.  It lifts his hair from his forehead and makes his eyes sting.  Has him hunching his shoulders clear to his ears as if that’d do him any good, and he finds himself hurrying just as much as the little fucker that finally abandons him, home within his sights.  “Ain’t the only one.”  

    He sheds his muddy boots just inside the kitchen door and tries to make a grab for Dog before he runs off, he really does, but the damn animal’s too squirrely.  Too excited to see his kids.  To see his girl.  Daryl can relate.  

 “Ten minutes later and we were going to send out a search party.”  

 The soft lilt of her voice brings a smile to his mouth before he’s even seen her.  “Promised I’d be back.”  All the leftover tension from the trek back through the woods melts away beneath her gentle touch and he leans his head back against her chest with a sigh.  

 “I know that,” she murmurs fondly.  “Judith knows that.  RJ too.”

 “Lydia?”

 “She worries. It’s sweet.”  

 What’s even sweeter is the feel of her hands in his hair, her nails tickling his scalp, and the smile he feels curve against his cheek before her lips leave a kiss there. “C’mere.”  

 She’s straddling his lap, arms hooked around his shoulders, and nose nestled against his own before he can ask her twice.  

 Daryl cups her head and coaxes her closer, her hair slipping like silk between his fingers. He kisses her until they both sigh.

 “Miss me, Mr. Crossbow?”

 Her smile fills his heart and works a lump into his throat.  “Always.  Know that.”

 She traces the bridge of his nose, the line of his jaw, the curve of his ear, and pouts. “Your ears are cold.”  

 “Should have worn the fucking hat.”  

 “I’m not one to say I told you so, but…”  

 “Pfft.”  

 “You really should have worn the fucking hat.  I mean, look at me.  Really look at me.  This isn’t the time or place for vanity,” she teases.    

 “That’s the ugliest sweater I’ve ever seen.”  She giggles like a girl.  Like Judith. Like Lydia when she doesn’t think anybody’s watching.  And he’ll tell her a thousand times the sweater is ugly just to hear that sound again, even though she’s still the prettiest thing he ever did see.  “The ugliest damn sweater.”  

 “The ugliest.  I left yours upstairs at the foot of the bed.”  

 “Carol.”  

 “They’re a matching set.”  

   ---

 The logs are crackling in the fireplace when he comes back downstairs and joins them.  

 RJ and Judith have their heads together nearby, talking in whispers and giggles.  Both of them seemingly transfixed by the orange sparks that float and flicker like fireflies against a midnight sky.  

 Lydia’s got a book and Dog in her lap and a blanket tucked around her toes.  A soft, hesitant smile plays upon her lips when she spies him, and she’s quick to bury her nose back in her book before it can visibly stretch from ear to ear.  

 “Stahp,” he gives a preemptive grumble when Carol glances up from mending his raggedy ass pants and her sassy mouth starts to twitch.  “Woman,” he warns with an accusatory finger when the first laugh sputters free. “If I didn’t know better…”  

 “Is Aunt Carol in trouble?” RJ asks his big sister.  

 Judith’s smile is soft and knowing even at her tender age.  “Not really.”  

 “They gonna kiss again?”

 Lydia does the answering this time.  “Probably.”

 “Did the Brave Man kiss Mama all the time too?”  

 “He did,” Judith answers wistfully.  

 “Why?”  

 “It’s what two people that love each other do.”  

 The dancing twinkle in Carol’s blue eyes softens into something else altogether, something that although it makes Daryl’s cheeks flush pink in the glimmering firelight, he brings her hand to his mouth and presses the imprint of his smile to her palm.  “Hear that?”  

 “Ain’t telling me nothing I don’t know, Sweetheart.  Now ‘bout this ugly ass sweater…”  

 “Nobody else could pull it off as well as you do, Pookie.  Nobody.”  

[death-himself]

Love is Dead—Chapter 7

Summary: Logan and Virgil come to the realization that there's a new predicament that gets just a little bit in the way of Janus getting with Patton: that being Janus and Patton even being able to communicate in the first place

Word Count: 1,773 (eyy kinda long for me)

Warnings: Possession/Talk of possession

previous next (AO3 Link)

“Patton!” Remus shrieked down the hall. He slammed into Patton’s bedroom door, ramming it open and jumping onto the bed, where Patton had been trying to get a few more minutes of sleep. The man in question groaned, rubbing his eyes as he turned to look at the child.

In his hands was a bouquet of bluebells, a bit messed up with some flowers looking out of place, but overall surprisingly intact for something given from Remus. Patton sat up, just as his brother slammed the bouquet into his arms. “Present for you!”

“Aww thanks, Rem. They’re very pretty, where’d you get them?”

“They’re from Mr. Ghost!” Patton nodded slowly along to that. Okay, so then maybe they were from Virgil. He was pretty sure one of his friends’ parents was a florist or something.

“Okay, well tell Mr. Ghost that I’m thankful and that this was really nice of him.”

“Okay!” Remus then ran to the doorway, where Janus had been watching intently. “He said that he’s thankful and—”

“Yes, I heard Remus.” Janus sighed, seeing that Patton still didn’t have a clue what was actually going on. He flew out, Remus following close behind, into the kitchen, where Virgil had been waiting for their response. He raised an eyebrow as Janus entered.

“Well?”

“He didn’t believe it.” Virgil nodded knowingly, taking a sip of his coffee.

“This is why I said I should be the one to give it to him.”

“Oh please. Remus has more charisma than you had or ever will, Cain.” Virgil glared.

“Remus is eight.”

“Exactly my point.” Virgil pulled his spray bottle from his belt, having begun keeping it around, often zip tied to his side, at all times, spraying in Janus’s direction. The spirit quickly evaded, not losing any of his confident composure while he did.

“You got any other ideas then, loverboy?”

“I’m working on it. Now don’t you have school to go to?” Virgil blinked, checking his phone for the time. He cursed, slamming down his cup of coffee, haphazardly grabbing his backpack and binder before sprinting out the door faster than Janus had ever seen him move.

Janus shook his head at the teen’s idiocy. Time without him would do him good for brainstorming. He definitely had more options to go over now with a living human helping him. He looked down at Remus, who quickly pointed up at Virgil’s leftover drink. “He just left his coffee here, can I drink it?”

“No, no you can’t.” But he still had to deal with this nuisance for another hour before he left for kindergarten. Splendid.

Virgil made it just in time to the bus stop, panting heavily as he made his way to the very back to sit next to Logan. “You almost missed the bus, is everything alright?”

“Yep, just trying to get my brother to fall in love with a ghost.” Logan’s eyes went blank as he attempted to understand that.

“...Pardon?”

“Yeah, I’m confused too.”

“I’m assuming this is about this Janus you told me about earlier this week, correct?” Virgil put his backpack down on the floor, right as the bus began rumbling to life and driving off to school.

“Yep. He had me get him some flowers from Remy’s mom. Made me pay for it too, the piece of shit.”

“Well I’m assuming spirits don’t have any sort of money of their own.” Virgil ignored him.

“I’m helping a ghost woo my brother to get him to pass onto the afterlife, because we were lovers when we were alive, and then I killed him.” Virgil spoke slowly, taking it all in for a moment. “What the hell is my life?”

“I don’t remember you telling me of this whole “lovers in a past life” ordeal.”

“That’s what he told me. Said the only way to get him to pass on is if he felt love again or something. Like what is he, a Disney princess?”

“That does sound like the plot of one of the more traditional Disney movies.”

“Would I be like the evil villain then?” Logan hummed, pulling up a game of Tetris on his phone.

“I suppose you would be more like a side character, helping the metaphorical princess along her journey.” Virgil pulled a leg up to his chest, not really caring when it felt like the bus driver was giving him a dirty look in the mirror.

“I suppose there would have to be a villain if we’re truly talking about a traditional Disney movie.” Logan said after a moment of silence.

“There doesn’t always have to be a villain.”

“Ah, so we’ve switched beliefs since kindergarten.”

“I mean there’s sorta always a villain, but not always like a character that’s the villain.”

“So I’ve converted you to my side of the argument.” Virgil rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, I guess.” 

This was something they had argued about since they first met. They had first been brought together when their teacher had pointed out how similar they looked: same pale skin, same brown eyes, same black hair, even the same mole next to their eyes and gap in their teeth. If Logan hadn’t gotten glasses and Virgil hadn’t dyed his hair they would look almost like twins.

“If Patton ever does begin believing that Janus does in fact exist, how will he manage to fall in love with him?” Logan asked.

“What?”

“Patton can’t see or hear spirits. How can he fall in love with someone he can’t communicate with?” The realization hit Virgil like a brick. He hadn’t really thought of that.

“And even if you get past that hurdle and Patton does fall in love with Janus, won’t Janus immediately pass on? What would happen then?” Virgil stared into nothingness, the image of Patton, heartbroken and crying as his “true love” dissolves into light and disappears right before his eyes burning into his retinas. This was going to hurt Patton.

But Janus also showed how malicious he was. He wasn’t a good person, the amount of people he must have tormented out of their house showed that. So was it better for his big brother to be heartbroken for a couple of weeks or months if it meant that anyone who moved into that house after Virgil’s family would be safe from that shitlord? His logic couldn’t help but say yes.

“I’m sure he’ll be fine.” They arrived at school and began filing out of the bus. As they walked over to the school entrance, Virgil glanced down at the ground, pausing for a moment before crouching down on the grass.

On the ground was a grey rock speckled with black and white. Virgil picked it up and pocketed it, liking how it looked. Logan watched him before sighing, having seen his friend do this far too many times, waiting for Virgil to rejoin him before walking onto school campus.

Virgil came home with Roman and Remus in his dad’s car, seeing that Patton had already left for one of his college classes. Immediately he went up to the attic, knowing Janus would demand to talk to him. He pushed open the trapdoor, seeing Janus sitting with his fingers folded together under his chin.

“About time you got back.”

“What, did you think I could get back any faster? It’s school, not some sort of—”

“Excuses, excuses.” Janus waved his hand dismissively. “I came up with a few more ideas while you were away.”

“Yeah about that, can I ask something?” Without even giving Janus time to respond he continued. “How’re you gonna talk to Patton if we ever get him to believe you’re real?” Janus stared blankly.

“What?”

“He’s not gonna fall in love with someone he can’t see or hear, dude.” His eyes widened slightly, his head turning to the ground as his gaze flicked around on the attic floorboards, as if searching for an answer. “You didn’t think of that, did you?”

“I did!” He snapped, brow furrowed as he continued to think. “I’ll...tell you my plan for that after we get him to believe I exist.”

“Uh huh. Sure. So what ideas did you have?” Janus sighed, deciding to figure out that whole predicament another day.

“I’m going to personally hand Patton chocolate.” Virgil raised an eyebrow, picking off a small piece of splintered wood and chucking it at the spirit. As expected, it passed right through him.

“Can’t really hand anyone anything, don’t you think?” Janus had the piece of wood float into the air, flinging it at Virgil and hitting him square on the nose.

“That is how I’ll hand it to him, except much more gently without an intent to cause harm.” Virgil winced, wiping away a small bit of blood coming from the small new cut on the tip of his nose.

“Okay, point proven. So you want me to get you chocolate?”

“I would, yes.”

“Alright.” He reached into his pocket, pulling out the monochrome rock and placing it in front of the spirit. “Attach to this.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Attach to this so you can come with me to the store.”

“What is that?”

“It’s a rock. I found it, it had your kind of vibes with it, I took it, now attach to it.” Virgil spoke bluntly, his eyes dull and completely serious.

“You’re asking me to possess a rock?” Virgil shrugged.

“I guess that’s basically what attaching is. So yeah, possess the rock.” Janus sighed, realizing the teen wouldn’t leave until he did this.

“If you lose this rock with me possessing it, I will kill you at the next chance I get.”

“If you annoy me too much out there, I will chuck this as far away as possible and flip you off as I watch your bodiless soul fly through the air.” Janus sent another piece of splintered wood at his face for that.

He felt his soul latch onto the rock, in a way similar to, yet at the same time nothing like possession. With possession you feel the life and emotions of the person you’re possessing. With a rock, obviously there isn’t really any life or feelings with that. All this made him question when he had possessed someone to know the difference.

He tried to recall; he must have possessed someone in the past, how else would he know how possession felt? All he could remember from that time was a flood of fear and horror from the living human’s end.

Perhaps he had simply possessed someone to get them out of his house. Yes, that must be it. It was probably nothing.

Tagging: @rebelrewriter @arodynamic-enby @bullet-tothefeels

[adverb-slut]

The Purgatory Hall Boys Are Bad at Road Trips (Fanfiction)

I just *clutches chest* really love the boys at Purgatory Hall and felt they needed more spotlight so here they are being big dummies on the road.  Oh, I also posted this on AO3 here. 

Title:

The Purgatory Hall Boys Are Bad at Road Trips

Summary:

On a R.A.D-sanctioned road trip to the Caverns of Degeneracy, the Purgatory Hall boys prove that they have just as many brain cells as the demon brothers (read: none).

Genre:

Humor/Fluff/Slice of Life

Rating:

T

Word Count:

6870

-

Hour 0

Our story begins just outside the gates of Purgatory Hall, where two of its three non-native Devildom residents stood near a rather expensive-looking, immaculately-maintained vehicle. 

The short, prone-to-fits-of-righteous-anger one yanked behind him a wagon, which was piled high with duffel and overnight bags, all made of a stiff white and gold fabric straight from the Celestial Realm.  

The other, older man, who never left home without a mysterious smile and his magic wand, too, tugged the handle of his own luggage—although his was a wheeled backpack which sagged due to the weight of the approximately seven-hundred souvenir keychains from around the Human World that he had clipped onto it.

The pair were waiting for their third friend—who, in every sense of the word, was an angel—as together they were planning to embark upon a new R.A.D tradition, which the Demon Prince Diavolo had appropriately christened—Our Annual Road Trip to the Caverns of Degeneracy (A.R.T C.D for short).  The Caverns of Degeneracy were on the far outskirts of the Devildom, over six-hundred-and-sixty-six miles away from the R.A.D campus, and yet, for some asinine reason, Diavolo had decided that they were the perfect spot for hosting the academy’s yearly Bleeding Hearts Festival.  

(Many of the Student Council Officers and faculty had wagered that the Demon Prince had just wanted an excuse to take a road trip—a phenomenon he had recently been introduced to through one of Leviathan’s video games.)

Diavolo himself planned for his personal driver to ferry him and his butler, Barbatos, up to the Caverns a day early so he could begin preparations for the festival and encouraged all students to find their own means of transportation in order to get to the event on time.

The R.A.D Student Council Officers—all of whom resided in the House of Lamentation—had decided to pile themselves into Asmodeus’ tour bus (he had bought it specifically because once he became a famous DevilTuber, he would need it to do meet-and-greets with his fans and also because it had a “bear-y adorable design”) and drive down together.  

As the Purgatory Hall boys had no modes of transportation to call their own, Lucifer had graciously allowed them to borrow Mammon’s Demonio 666 Lexura (fits had ensued à la the secondborn but were ignored), which both Luke and Solomon now hovered around.

However, as Solomon poked and prodded the vehicle, commenting admiringly under his breath at the paint job, the young angel peered nervously at the sorcerer’s backpack.  

He cleared his throat, bent on sounding as polite as possible—but failing miserably—and said, “Solomon, er—are you the one who’s bringing our road trip snacks?”  He followed this with a silent please say no, please say no, Father please let him say no.

Solomon raised an eyebrow.  “I thought you were bringing them.”

Luke dropped the handle of his wagon.  “No!  I would’ve made some snacks if I had the time but I was helping those,” he gagged, “wretched demon brothers pack using some low-level Celestial Realm magic.”  

“Oh, that’s right,” Solomon said, snapping his fingers.  “I just remembered that I volunteered to make the snacks, but Simeon heard and immediately offered to do it for me.  Then he sent me on a bunch of errands to buy groceries, but it felt more like he was trying to get me out of the kitchen.”  He laughed at the last part and shook his head because there was no way that such a criminally calm angel like Simeon would be that underhanded.  

“No!” wailed Luke, yanking his hat off and clutching it to his chest in despair.  “Don’t you know what this means?”    

“It means you don’t like Simeon’s cooking as much as you let on,” decided the sorcerer with a smile at Luke’s theatrical display.

Luke shook his head so vigorously that Solomon had to hold in a laugh based on how much the angel looked like a chihuahua shaking itself dry.  “For trips, Simeon only makes the most nutritious, most energizing food.”  He screwed up his face in disgust as he seethed, “The most disgusting food.”

“The stuff Simeon cooks for dinner isn’t particularly unhealthy and you seem to like that just fine,” pointed out Solomon.

Luke frowned.  “Yes, b—but I’m talking about real healthy stuff here, so we’ll all have lots of energy throughout the trip!  L—like entire salads squished between two pieces of bread and ‘yummy morsels’ of banana slices dipped in cashew butter and drizzled with mung bean and coconut water paste!”  He gestured toward himself.  “Look at me, Solomon!  I was made for jam-filled pastries and perfectly-iced cakes!  No—not,” he shuddered, “health foods.”

“You’re serious?  He’s really going to bring that kind of stuff?” Solomon’s eyes widened.  “I guess I should’ve given in to my gut intuition and made some pork pies as backup snacks.  ‘Snackups,’ if you will.”

Luke could feel bile rising up his throat at the thought of Solomon’s cooking.  “Er—no, I don’t think that would’ve been necessary!”  He spotted a figure exiting Purgatory Hall.  “Oh, look, there’s Simeon, now; we can just ask him what snacks he brought.”

“And then burn them,” finished Solomon.

The younger angel gave a scandalized gasp at the comment as Solomon nodded at Simeon, who walked closer to the pair.  

A lone celestial blue suitcase trailed behind the elder angel as he beamed at his traveling companions.  “Is everyone ready?”  Before waiting for an answer, he turned toward Luke with a gaze that was almost motherly in nature.  “And has everyone gone to the bathroom?  We only have a day to drive to the Caverns of Degeneracy and I want to see some of the Devildom sights along the way.  I even brought an instant camera to take pictures.”  

He pulled out from his cape pocket said camera and an enormous stack of printed DevilmapQuest directions and began to rifle through them, trying to decide which of the landmarks and tourist destinations he wanted to visit most.  

“S—Simeon!  Why did you have to stare at me when you asked if we all went to the bathroom?  I may be young, but I at least know that I should go to the bathroom before long car rides!”  He then blushed and handed Solomon his wagon handle.  “A—and that being said, I—I have to go to the bathroom.”

As he ran inside, Solomon peered over Simeon’s shoulder at the map sheets and laughed.  “You know, most of these directions are online.”

“I know, I know,” admitted the older angel.  “But reading the directions off of a D.D.D requires knowing how to operate one, and you know I’m not too good at that.”  

Solomon smiled and said, “That’s fine, then.  We three will take turns driving and meanwhile, one of the two who aren’t behind the wheel will navigate.”  

“Haha, you’re aware Luke can’t drive, right?” asked Simeon, turning to give Solomon a look that cautiously strode the line between tolerant and what-the-fuck-is-wrong-with-you.  

“Well, I guess he’ll be the one giving directions, then,” replied Solomon, without missing a beat.  He couldn’t help but silently add he’ll be doing that, either way.  

As Simeon continued to sort through the DevilmapQuest papers and double-check all the items packed in the messenger bag slung across his shoulder, Solomon began to load everyone’s luggage into Mammon’s car.  He couldn’t help but envision himself playing Tetris as he carefully arranged in the trunk the seven blocky bags that the group had among them—six of which belonged to Luke, who packed as if he were planning to change his clothes at least twelve times a day.    

His own backpack—and Simeon’s messenger bag—would be staying with the trio in the cabin space of the car.  He hadn’t felt the need to pack nearly as many outfits as Luke and most of his bag consisted of medical supplies, while Simeon’s was supposed to be filled to the brim with road trip snacks.

Speaking of snacks, Solomon felt his mouth turn dry as he mulled over the healthy monstrosities that Luke believed the older angel had created in place of actually palatable food.  He turned to Simeon.  “Er, Simeon—what’s on the menu in terms of snackage?”

“‘Snackage?’” Simeon laughed.  He pat his messenger bag and said, “Let’s see, well, whenever I go on long trips, I try to make foods that provide a lot of energy, since we’re going to need it—especially you and I, as we’ll be driving.  Here, I made dried, salted edamame and roasted chickpea trail mix, almond-butter-and-white-bean-stuffed dried dates, and oatmeal-honey-sesame-black-bean balls with dried pineapple, coconut, and avocado.”   

Solomon did not like how many times Simeon had mentioned “beans,” for as far as he was concerned, road trip food was junk food exclusively.  He took a deep breath and carefully twisted his mouth into a smile.  “That sounds well … delicious. Ten out of ten.”

“Excellent.  Now, where is Luke?”  Simeon peered behind them toward Purgatory Hall, where a munchkin of a silhouette now appeared.  “Ah, there he is.”  He tossed Solomon the keyring Mammon had tearfully given him the day before.  “Mind starting the car?”

Solomon nodded and after examining the gaudy charms that adorned Mammon’s keys, he clicked open the car and stepped toward the driver’s seat door.  “I’ll take the first shift.  It’ll take us fifteen hours of sheer driving to get to the Caverns of Degeneracy, so we’ll take three-hour turns.”  

As Solomon yanked the car door open, something tumbled out of the front seat.  He jumped back, and Simeon and Luke rushed toward the commotion.  

“M—Mammon?  What are you doing here?” exclaimed Luke.  

Simeon laughed, his brows furrowing in confusion.  “Hoping to hitch a ride?”

Solomon had to swallow his smile when he saw the almost-comical tears that ran down Mammon’s face.  “Did your brothers leave you behind?”

“N— no!  They’d never leave without me, The Great Mammon!”  Mammon hastily wiped his nose before sprawling his hands over his Demonio 666 Lexura.  “I just couldn’t fathom leavin’ my beloved baby for so long!  I had to say goodbye!”

“Speaking of saying goodbye, you do know that Asmo’s bus already left a few minutes ago, right?” asked Simeon.  “I caught a glimpse of them before I came out here and they were already on the road.”

Mammon’s face paled.  “Wh—what?  They wouldn’t! Wait—of course, they would!  Those bastards!”  He immediately turned into his demon form, planted a kiss on his car’s hood, and sped off into the horizon.

“I suddenly understand what the term ‘speed demon’ means,” commented Luke as he watched Mammon’s quickly disappearing form.

“I sure hope he manages to catch up to them,” Solomon said, rubbing his chin.  “Anyway, everyone, pile in.  It’s time to get this show on the road.”

Hour 1

After they had driven well out of the bounds of R.A.D’s campus, Solomon announced, “All right—first item on the agenda—”

Luke raised his hand from the back passenger seat as he strained against his seatbelt.  “—What’s an ‘agenda?’”

“Oh.  An agenda is basically a list of things we have to do,” explained Solomon.

Simeon’s eyes widened in concern.  “I didn’t know we had an agenda.”

Solomon nodded gravely.  “Oh, yes—an unwritten road trip one.  And the first thing on it is picking some tunes.”

Again, Luke raised his hand.  “I have a suggestion!  I have a suggestion!”  From the pocket of his shorts, he drew out a CD case labeled 1001 Hymns to Praise Him.  “This album is my personal favorite.”

Solomon began coughing violently in attempts to cover his laughter, while Simeon smiled and took the CD from him.  “That’s a great idea, Luke, but how about we play this when I drive, and when Solomon drives, he’ll pick the music.”

The sorcerer handed Simeon his D.D.D, keeping his eyes on the road as he instructed, “Here, go to my Akutify account and play my Travel playlist.  Hope you guys don’t mind that I managed to export my entire Spotify account onto Akutify, so we’re going to be listening to Human World songs for now.”

It took Simeon seven tries to carry out Solomon’s orders, but before long, “I Want It That Way” by the Backstreet Boys blared through the state-of-the-art stereo system of the Demonio 666 Lexura.  

Luke was silent for a few moments before he innocently asked, “I don’t understand, Solomon.  What do they want ‘that way?’”

Solomon shook his head.  “I’ve been trying to figure that out for years.”

Hour 2

It didn’t take very long for Simeon to discover the first location on his list of places to visit along their trip.  

“The Maw of Beelzebub,” Simeon breathed, taking in their dark, ashy surroundings from the passenger seat.  “I’ve seen it in pictures when I researched for TSL, but I never fathomed I’d get to see it in person.”

Luke pouted as Simeon exited the vehicle.  “Don’t tell me we’re going to see those dumb demon brothers.”

“Nope,” Solomon said, unbuckling Luke from his seat, despite the vehement protests from the little angel.  “The Maw of Beelzebub is a chain of three volcanoes, actually.  The two smaller ones that form the ‘eyes of Beelzebub’ are active, but the huge, massive one that we’re going to walk across by way of that bridge,” he pointed to a shaky overpass that was suspended over a volcano crater a thousand miles wide, “is dormant.  However, you can still see the enormous pool of lava bubbling inside.  Tourists like to drop things down into it—and of course, it disappears into the molten lava—which is why it’s named after Beel because no matter what you feed him, he’s still hungry as if he’s never eaten.”

“Remind me again, then, why we’re walking across it?”  Luke asked as the trio wandered over to the entrance of the precarious bridge.  

Simeon looked at him curiously.  “Don’t you think it’s exhilarating, Luke?  To be so close to something so much bigger and powerful and dangerous than yourself?”   

The younger angel pondered that for a moment before deciding, “Father is so much bigger and powerful and dangerous than me.  I think that’s enough.”   

Simeon laughed.  “So it is.”  He wiggled his fingers under Luke’s hat to rumple his hair.  “But let’s go see it, anyway.”

 Hour 3

“Psst,” Luke hissed, “Simeon.” The elder angel seemed to be too enthralled by the latest song in Solomon’s playlist, “What Makes You Beautiful” by One Direction, to hear him, so Luke reached out to poke his shoulder.

If he wasn’t strapped to his seat by his seatbelt, Simeon would’ve jumped about fifty feet in surprise.  “Ah, you startled me, Luke.  Did you need something?”

Luke adamantly refused to meet Simeon’s eyes as he flushed and muttered, “I have to go.”

“Don’t worry, Luke—there’s no shame in needing to go to the bathroom,” assured Simeon.

“There is when you just went ten minutes ago,” mumbled Solomon under his breath, but he swerved into a gas station, nonetheless.  “I guess we’re due for a tank refill, anyway.”

Simeon put up his hand.  “You paid for the gas last time—let me do it, especially since Mammon left explicit instructions that his car is supposed to be ‘fed’ premium gas only.” 

Solomon grinned cheekily.  “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”  He followed Luke, who had already gone into the gas station convenience store.  “I guess I’ll just have a look around, then.”

However, before he got more than a few feet into the store, he heard someone whisper-screaming his name.

“Psst!  Solomon!  Over here!  Behind the candy stand!” 

He followed the voice, only to find that it belonged to Luke, who was very much not in the bathroom and rather ripping open a packet of fruit snacks.

“Whoa, I didn’t know you had it in you to employ the much-loved five-finger-discount,” Solomon said, nodding appreciatively.  “Considering you’re an angel and all.”

Luke stared at him with blank eyes.  “I don’t know what that means, but these were in my pocket from earlier!”  He motioned for Solomon to come closer and poured a few of the gummies into his hand.  “This is my last pouch—eat them fast.  They might be our last bit of yummy food before we have to eat Simeon’s nightmares.”

Solomon bobbed his head, before dumping the fruit snacks into his mouth all at once, savoring their sweet taste.  He gestured toward Luke.  “Do you always keep those on you?”

The angel’s offended gasp could be heard by all the demons in the convenience store.  “I’m a ten-year-old, Solomon!  Of course, I keep fruit snacks in my pocket!”

Hour 4

It wasn’t that Simeon was a bad driver.  It was just that driving in the Devildom (and the Human World) was very different from driving in the Celestial Realm.

Here, in uncontrolled intersections, it wasn’t customary to say “hello” to the drivers rolling to a stop in all directions.  Even stranger, the traffic lights weren’t celestial blue, gold, and white, but rather red, green, and yellow! 

Luke, who had discovered a “2020 Devildom Rules of the Road” manual crumpled inside one of the cupholders, was forced to bark instructions at the eldest angel, all while offering condescending commentary on how imbecilic the rules of driving in the Devildom were.

“Simeon!  Listen to this!  In the Devildom, you have to obey the posted speed limits, or else you’ll get in trouble!” realized Luke.

“Wait—you don’t have speed limits in the Celestial Realm?” Solomon asked.

Luke replied smugly, “No, because angels have the sense to know how fast they should or shouldn’t be driving.”

“Wow, that’s honestly impressive.”  Solomon grimaced as Simeon ran through another red light.  “Remember, if the light is red, then you have to stop.”

Simeon offered an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I’m so used to remembering that blue means ‘stop.’”

Solomon slunk low in his seat, knowing better than to rile up the angel, who was rumored to have a feisty side when he got angry.  “I just hope the police or whatever they have here don’t catch us for breaking so many traffic laws.”

“What’s a ‘police?’” asked Luke.

“Oh, you know … people who are supposed to make people follow the laws and stuff,” replied Solomon.  His eyes widened.  “Do you not have a police force in the Celestial Realm?”

“The Celestial Realm is a perfect world, Solomon,” answered Simeon.  “We don’t need police.”

Hour 6

Solomon didn’t know that he could get sick of songs.  Sure, he got tired of the “Despacito” remix after the first dozen times it was played on the radio—but he meant real music.  

“Amazing Grace” in particular.

Luke’s favorite album, 1001 Hymns to Praise Him, really should’ve been called 1001 Ways An Angelic Choir Can Sing “Amazing Grace” because Solomon swore about ninety percent of the songs on the album were just renditions of the classic hymn sung by different groups of angels.

And this seemed to bother neither of his driving companions, who crooned along to the choir in heavenly tones—it seemed to be a prerequisite for angels to be divine singers—without missing a beat.  

He hadn’t even known all the words to “Amazing Grace,” but now he could recite all six verses on demand.  He fought the urge to smash the “eject” button on the CD player, but he worried that Luke would throw a fit or Simeon would look at him with a stare so full of disappointment that Solomon would be willing to throw himself off a bridge just to rid himself of its gaze.

But one could only hear the line “amazing grace, how sweet the sound,” so many times.

He had to do something.

“Hey!  I have an idea!” Solomon chirped.  “Let’s make up our own song!”

He had to fight the urge to smack himself upside the head.  Why did he say that?  He had no ideas for potential song lyrics!

“I like that!” Luke pursed his lips, deep in thought.  “Here, let’s have the first lines go like this: ‘Father, You are all that I need!’”

Simeon used one hand to snap out the beat, and continued, “‘Father, listen to my creed!’”

Solomon sighed.

He did not know if this was any better.

Hour 8

“Luke, wake up.  We’re here.”  Solomon couldn’t help but layer on the desperation thick as he shook the younger angel awake, despite the fact that they were in no danger whatsoever.

Luke shot up, trying very hard to hide the fact that he had been drooling all over his shoulder.  He rubbed his sleep-filled eyes. “What?  Did we beat all the other demons here?  Are the Caverns of Degeneracy as hideous as I imagined?”

Solomon unbuckled Luke’s seatbelt and dragged him out of the car.  He snickered, saying, “We’re not at the Caverns, yet.”  He gestured toward their surroundings, which now consisted of precarious cliffs and rocky crags instead of the open road of the Devildom. 

Simeon stood a few feet ahead of them and turned around, spreading his arms wide in wonder.  “Welcome to Sinner Falls!”

Luke stared at the dark stone formations.  “I don’t see any waterfalls.”

“That’s because Sinner Falls isn’t a waterfall,” Solomon explained.  “You probably better know it as ‘the Abyss—’”

“‘The Abyss? ’  Why didn’t you say so?”  Luke exclaimed, his eyes glittering excitedly.  “The place where demons are tortured for a thousand years during the Millenium has always been one of my dream places to visit!”

Simeon smiled, a little taken aback by the younger angel’s enthusiasm.  “If we’re lucky, we might get to see Abaddon, Angel of the Abyss. He’s supposed to be guarding the canyon up ahead.”

“If we see him, do you think he’ll let me call him ‘Abba?’” teased Solomon, even though the remark earned him a kick in the shin and a “He most certainly will not!  How dare you even say such a thing about one of the most high-ranking angels!” from Luke.

“Careful now, Solomon,” Simeon warned, as the trio walked toward the deep canyon amongst the cliffs.  As far as anyone could tell, there was no end to the inky, suffocating blackness that was visible when looking down into it.  He pointed into the canyon.  “This is the Abyss—er, Sinner Falls.  Us angels cannot pass this invisible barrier—” he pressed his hand out to the ledge of the canyon, only for it to smash against some kind of unseen wall, “—but any human or demon who falls down into it falls for eternity, never to come back to the surface.”

Luke beamed. “That must be why it’s called ‘Sinner Falls!’  Because most humans and all demons are sinners!”  Despite this, he grabbed Solomon’s hand to prevent him from wandering too close to Sinner Falls’ ledge (as he was wont to do), because, despite their bickering and mutual pestering, Luke had a soft spot for the sorcerer.

Simeon followed in suit and intertwined his fingers with Solomon as the trio looked down into the great Abyss, wondering if any of their demon friends would be among the many thrown into it one day.

Hour 9

Simeon rifled through his messenger bag, intent on looking for something to eat.  He had made sure to pack plenty of goodies and was pleased as to how nutritious the snacks he’d made had turned out.  He scooped a handful of edamame and chickpea trail mix into his hand and turned to Luke, who was hunched over a map in the back passenger seat. 

“You haven’t eaten anything in over eight hours; aren’t you hungry?”  Simeon offered him the bag of trail mix.

Luke gulped, as he beamed and shook his head.  “N—no, no!  I’m okay!”

Simeon shrugged and held out the bag toward Solomon, who was driving.  “Do you want some?  I can pour it into your mouth if you want, so you don’t have to take your eyes off the road.”

“As titillating as that sounds,” said the sorcerer, “I’m afraid I’m not hungry at the moment.”

“I guess that’s more for me, then.”  Simeon poured more of the trail mix into his palm, but before he could eat any of it, he heard a strange sound.

It was a low rumble, but very, very loud.

It almost sounded like … stomachs growling?

He whirled to face Luke and Solomon and scratched his head in confusion.  “Are you two sure you’re not hungry?”

When the pair shook their heads furiously, Simeon raised an eyebrow.  He yanked out from his bag the stuffed dried dates and the oatmeal-honey-sesame-black-bean balls.  “So … you two wouldn’t mind if I ate all of the snacks?”

“Yeah, sure, go nuts, Simeon,” Solomon assured.  He winced as his and Luke’s stomaches rumbled in unison.  “You wouldn’t actually have any nuts in that bag o’ treats, would you?  Preferably of the chocolate-covered variety?” 

“The dates have almond butter stuffed inside them,” pointed out Luke helpfully, although his expression was less-than-enthused.

Simeon raised his other eyebrow.  Clearly the pair were hungry but refusing food.  What kind of rebellious spirit had gotten into them?  Didn’t they know that food was essential to oh, survival?   His left eye twitched as he felt a black miasma of rage cover him. “If you two don’t eat, I’m turning this car around.  That’s a promise.”

Solomon exchanged nervous glances with Luke at the normally calm angel’s outburst. “Angry Simeon is scary,” he whimpered.

“If you don’t eat, you’ll see just how scary I can be,” promised Simeon with a smile that bordered downright terrifying.  He plopped an oatmeal-honey-sesame-black-bean ball into Solomon’s mouth and handed a stuffed date to Luke.  “Now, eat your snacks.”

He definitely didn’t miss Luke’s grumpy, “Yes, mother.”

Hour 11

“Solomon, I hate to complain—” which earned a snort from the sorcerer, as Luke continued, “but do you really have to play that now?”  He gestured toward the sound system, which, now that it was Simeon’s turn to drive, blared 1001 Hymns to Praise Him.  “Seven Lyres is my favorite orchestra and their take on ‘Amazing Grace’ is simply the best!”

Solomon, who had purposely pulled out a reed pipe from his backpack in an effort to drown out the nine thousandth chorus of “Amazing Grace,” sighed and put it down.  He knew he wasn’t an expert in playing the reed pipe—in fact, this was the first time he’d ever seen the instrument, but the racket was so soothing.

“Where did you even get that from, anyway?” asked Simeon.

“Found it in my backpack.  I didn’t pack it, but considering there was a note attached to it that said ‘Blow,’ I think Asmo put it there as some kind of visual innuendo.”  Solomon shrugged.  “Now seemed like as good a time as any to play it.”

 Luke tapped his chin thoughtfully.  “What’s an ‘innuendo?’”

“Something you’re not allowed to make until you’re much older,” replied Simeon sternly. 

Luke seemed satisfied with the answer and held out his palm toward Solomon.  “May I try?”

Solomon handed the reed pipe over and cocked his head.  “You know how to play?”

He received his answer when Luke gestured for him to lower the stereo volume (which Solomon did with immense pleasure) and began to carefully place his fingers over the openings and gently blow into the instrument.

The young angel played masterfully and Solomon would’ve given him a standing ovation if it weren’t for one tiny thing.

“Why don’t you play a different song besides ‘Amazing Grace?’”  he suggested.

Luke furrowed his brows.  “It’s the only thing I know how to play!”

Hour 12

“I don’t like this place, Simeon,” Luke mumbled, yanking his hat over his eyes.  “It looks like something straight from the End Times.”

He, of course, was referring to the town at which’s city limits they stood in front of.  It was one of the last tourist spots that Simeon had wanted to visit, and it was renowned for being one of the Devildom’s most haunted ghost towns.

Solomon nodded.  “I’m with the Chihuahua.  I’m super excited for the end of the world, and even I’m not getting a good feeling from whatever-this-place-is-called.”

“Deathblow Beggar’s Pass,” answered Simeon, ogling the city entrance sign gleefully.  “They say it’s the most haunted district in all of the Devildom.”  He took a step onto the creaky wooden path that led into the town.  “It’s been evacuated for centuries and now, even most demons are petrified to go inside.”

Luke gripped Simeon’s cape so tight, his knuckles turned white.  “Then why do you want to visit this place?”

“Don’t worry, Luke,” the older angel said (avoiding the question, which the young angel noticed), laughing, as he tousled Luke’s hair under his hat.  “I’ll make sure none of the scary ghosts come near you.”

Luke’s eyes widened.  “Sc—scary ghosts?”  He cleared his throat when he realized how incredibly uncourageous he sounded.  “I—I mean I’m not scared of any g—g—ghosts!”

Solomon and Simeon shared a secret smile at the angel’s feigned bravery, and instead of teasing him, Solomon turned to Luke very seriously.  “I strictly deal with demons, not ghosts.  How about you do me a favor and sit on my shoulders to be my lookout in case any of those ghosts try to pull anything?”

“W—well if you need my help, I’m definitely willing to offer it!” Luke blushed as he climbed onto Solomon’s shoulders.  “It’s my duty as an angel to help humans, after all!”

“That’s the ‘spirit,’” Solomon said.  He laughed when he saw the angels’ unamused faces.  “Get it?  ‘Cause we’re walking into a ghost town?”

Simeon laughed stiffly as to not hurt the sorcerer’s feelings before straightening his posture and looking ahead.  He channeled his inner fantasy writer as he declared, “Get ready, everyone!  We must put aside our doubts and fears as we charge forward into Deathblow Beggar’s Pass, where no creature has exited without releasing screams that could curdle the blood of the Demon Lord!  We might not be of this world, but we certainly can brave its most terrifying sites!”

It would have been a very heroic speech if it weren’t for the fact that not five minutes after the trio entered the city limits, Solomon and Simeon sprinted out, with Luke wailing loudly.

“That was the worst ever!” the little angel blubbered, yanking Solomon’s hair.

The sorcerer didn’t even have enough energy to flinch as he panted, “What in the name of all things unholy was that?”

There was nothing but fear in Simeon’s eyes as he doubled over, trying to catch his breath.  “We should’ve known the saloon bathroom stalls wouldn’t be empty.”  He gagged.  “I never want to see millennia-old demon penis again.”

Hour 15

“Simeon, are we there yet ?” asked Luke for the twenty-first time in the hour.

The other angel sighed.  “Almost, Luke.  Just a few more minutes.”

“Don’t you have the map?” Solomon pointed out as he honked the horn in irritation at a slow driver ahead of him.  “Shouldn’t you know where we are?”

Luke fussed with the multitude of papers that were stacked on his lap.  “I only have the stuff for Simeon’s places.”  His eyes opened wide in realization.  “Wait—how do you guys know where to drive if my maps don’t lead to the Caverns of Degeneracy?” 

“Diavolo said as long as we travel along Route 666 until we see the sign markers, we should have no problem getting there,” explained Simeon.  He peered ahead and squinted at one of the upcoming signs.  “And look—that sign says that the Caverns of Degeneracy are ten miles up ahead.”

“I hope we’re the first ones there,” said Luke.  “It’ll be nice to see all the looks on those dumb demons’ faces when we get there before them.”

Solomon pursed his lips.  “Speaking of those ‘dumb demons,’ I wonder if they’re all right.  We haven’t heard from them since we left Purgatory Hall.”

“I’m sure they’re fine,” Simeon assured.  He let out a laugh as he continued, “Assuming they haven’t killed each other already.  It must be hard having all seven of them cooped up in one small space.”

“We can only hope,” said Luke solemnly.  He paused for a moment as he shimmied as far as his seatbelt would allow him and peered over Solomon’s shoulder to look at what was going on in the front seats.  He pointed at the gear shift. “What does ‘D’ mean?”

“I’m not supposed to say that word in front of you,” answered Solomon as Simeon simultaneously replied, “Drive.”

“Oh.  What does ‘R’ mean, then?”

Simeon replied, “Reverse,” before Solomon could say anything.

At the elder angel’s preemptive glare, Solomon widened his eyes and innocently said, “I was going to say ‘reverse,’ as in ‘Uno Reverse Card.’’”

Luke turned toward the dashboard.  “What’s ‘E?’”

“I feel if I say ‘Evanescence,’ Simeon is going to yell at me, so I’ll just go with ‘empty,’” pouted Solomon.  

“Empty what?”

“Gas.”

“So … since that line-thingy is almost at ‘E,’ that means we’re nearly out of gas?”  

“Yep.”

Simeon turned around to cover Luke’s ears at Solomon’s next sentence: “Holy shit—we’re almost out of gas!”

The older angel’s eyes promised murder as he stared at the sorcerer, before directing his stare to the fuel gauge.  “We’re running on fumes.”

“We need to refuel, stat.  Simeon, grab my D.D.D and look up the nearest gas station,” directed Solomon.  “I always forget that Mammon’s car is a gas-guzzler.” 

“What should I do, Solomon?” asked Luke, eagerly awaiting orders like a baby soldier.

The sorcerer nodded, deadly serious.  “Sit there and be cute.”

Luke pouted as Simeon—with surprising speed—brought up a log of the nearest gas stations on Solomon’s D.D.D.  “There should be a station three miles ahead.”

Solomon frowned as he analyzed their fuel gauge.  “I’m not sure we’ll make it.”

“We have to!” cried Luke.  “How will we ever beat those demons if we don’t even make it to the Caverns of Degeneracy?”  

“We’ll have to trust that Mammon’s baby is strong enough to get us to the gas station, then.”  Solomon stroked the dashboard as if trying to offer the vehicle some kind of encouragement.  

And as the car’s fuel began to peter out, Simeon and Luke began to cheer in chorus, “You can do it, Mammon’s car!” while Solomon exclaimed, “You’re a fierce, strong woman who doesn’t need any man to tell you that your fuel gauge is empty!”  

After an eternity (okay, it was more like five minutes), the Demonio 666 Lexura finally eked it’s way to the first pump at a Demobil gas station. 

As the engine sputtered out, the trio let out a cheer, and Solomon and Simeon shared a hug in the front seat.

“Thank Father we made it!” exclaimed Luke as he unbuckled his seatbelt and exited the car.  He pat Mammon’s car.  “Also, thank you for getting us here, even if you belong to the scummiest demon in the Devildom.”

Solomon grinned and turned to Simeon.  “You spotted the gas bill last time, so I’ll do it now.”

“Are you sure?” asked Simeon.  “My TSL royalties are huge, even after I’ve tithed my ten percent.  I’ve got no problem paying.”

“Nah, it’s fine—you can go stretch your legs.” With that, Solomon exited the car and began to work the gas pump.

Simeon nodded and together with Luke, walked toward the attached Demobil convenience store.  By the entrance stood a higher-level demon, who appeared to be selling bouquets of fresh flowers.

The vendor, who had noticed the pair exit Mammon’s car and had seen Solomon get up to pump the gas, called to Simeon, “Flower for your Mister?”  He gestured toward the white-haired sorcerer. 

Luke gasped, absolutely scandalized, and huffed, “Simeon would never settle for a human!” while Simeon chuckled, replying, “I’m sorry, he’s not my ‘Mister,’ but I’ll take a bouquet, anyway.”

After exchanging Grimm for the flowers, Simeon and Luke strolled back to the Demonio 666 Lexura, where Solomon was just closing the fuel tank. 

“Simeon bought you flowers!” announced Luke.

The angel nodded as he handed the sunny bouquet to Solomon.  “It matches your wand.”

“How did you know gerberas are my favorite?” laughed Solomon.  “These are great—thank you.”  As they all piled back into the car, he carefully arranged the flowers in one of the cupholders and beamed, because God,  sometimes the angel was so nice. 

The group drove in silence for a few moments before Luke commented, “I didn’t know gerberas smelled like … salt?”

Simeon sniffed the air.  “I think that’s the sea.  After all, the Caverns of Degeneracy are right along the beach.”

Just as the angel spoke the words, Solomon pulled right into a parking lot that was situated right next to miles and miles of black sand.  

Luke cheered, kicking his feet at Solomon’s seat excitedly.  “Yay!  We’re here!”

Their road trip had finally come to an end.

Destination

After wandering the beach for a few moments, the trio eventually found themselves at the mouth of the Caverns of Degeneracy, which turned out to be several huge caves filled with glowing pastel stalactites and stalagmites.  Hellfireflies twinkled in the air, while friendly gentlemanbugs strolled about the cavern floor.  Some kind of glittering pink moss had been used to adorn the walls with the words, “R.A.D Bleeding Hearts Festival 2020.”

In the middle of it all stood Diavolo, who was discussing the festival decorations with Barbatos.

As soon as he saw the Demon Prince, Luke raced up and, bobbing uncontrollably, asked, “Are we first?  Are we first?” 

Diavolo let out a hearty laugh.  “Welcome you three!  And first for what, Luke?”

Solomon sauntered up and answered, “To arrive.”

“Luke’s been very anxious to know if we’re the first ones here at the festival,” elaborated Simeon, placing his hand on the younger angel’s shoulder.

“You make it seem like it was a competition to get here first—which, yes, you three are,” said Diavolo.  His eyes lit up.  “That’s an excellent idea, though!  Next year, we’ll make the R.A.D C.D a contest to see can make it to the Caverns the fastest!  First place will get a coupon for teatime with me!”

Luke wrinkled his nose.  “Teatime with you?  That sounds—”

“Incredibly fun,” cut in Simeon smoothly.  He turned to Diavolo.  “Have you gotten any word from those seven demon brothers?”

Diavolo grimaced.  “It seems that they’ll be late.  Beelzebub ate all their road trip snacks immediately as he entered Asmodeus’ tour bus, so they had to stop for food at every fast food restaurant they could find because he still wasn’t satisfied, Belphegor kept falling asleep at the wheel, and Mammon got so many speeding violations and every time the police showed up, Asmodeus tried to seduce his way out of their ticket, which only earned them more fines and lectures from Lucifer.  It’s comic-con season, so of course, Leviathan had to stop at every convention center along the way, and unsurprisingly, Satan’s road rage forced him to get into out-of-car fights with every driver he encountered when he was at the wheel.”  He sighed.  “They managed to turn a fifteen-hour trip into a twenty-two hour one.”

Solomon smiled as he said, “I guess we should’ve expected that.”  His grin grew even wider as he gestured toward his traveling companions.  “Meanwhile, we did all fifteen-hours of driving—courtesy of me bending the speeding rules quite a bit when there was no traffic— and saw some of the sights of the Devildom along the way.”

“Oooh, did you manage to get any pictures?” asked Diavolo with an excited gleam in his eye.  “I always want to travel around the Devildom but never get the chance.”

Simeon nodded as he pulled out from his messenger bag some of the pictures he had asked fellow tourists to snap with his instant camera.  He handed them one by one to Diavolo and beamed at the goofy scenes.

The first one was from when they stopped at the Maw of Beelzebub: Solomon teasingly dangled Luke’s hat over the bridge’s railing while the young angel cried and stomped on the sorcerer’s foot in retaliation.  Simeon, meanwhile, tried to rescue Luke’s hat.

The second photo showcased Solomon sitting at the ledge of Sinner Falls with his feet swinging over the bottomless canyon.  Luke and Simeon posed obnoxiously as if they were going to fall into the Abyss, even though as angels, they were unable to.  

The final picture was the only one he had from Deathblow Beggar’s Pass, and it was of the trio crouched in front of the sign that spelled “Enjoy your stay at Deathblow Beggar’s Pass!”

Diavolo examined the images wistfully.  He sighed as he handed the photos back to Simeon.  “You three looked as if you made some fun memories.”

The angels and the sorcerer exchanged contented glances and chorused, “We most certainly did.”

[space-blue]

Time’s Arrow

I wrote this in memory of a man I was smitten with for a long long time... It is the only story where I wrote a passage that felt written through me, made perfect by some greater force. A flow as good and deep as during your best tetris jams...

'Damn Ellen, Paris is off the maps forever isn't it?'

'Looks like it. No more visits to the Louvre for our holidays.'

'Well, instead of visiting the museums, we'll get to visit the Glass Sea of Paris.'

'When radiations cool, in half a million years?'

'You know this is the work of Russia's Harbingers. It's gonna be fine for tourism in fifty years tops.'

'How can you tell it's the Russians behind that? The news don't know yet.'

'It's a safe bet. Of all our enemies, no one else has the missiles required to fuse stuff the way that news drone is showing. At least not enough for a crater the size of Paris.'

'Fair point, Bobby.'

My husband is smart even when he's drunk, or rather, he becomes sloppy a while after I'm too drunk to notice. The news on TV have been drinking material for weeks now, but we try to contain both our drinking and TV time. Our little wine shelf is almost empty, and we need to keep the best for our last evening.

'I still can't believe it's all happening.'

'Yeah, feels like we'll realise we were watching the Sci-fi channel all along, doesn't it?'

Except there are no more fancy channels now. I let myself slump against Bobby. The world swirls, like we're on a raft. Adrift and going down the drain. I feel his fingers plunge in my hair, his voice rumble out of his chest as he comments on the never ending horror show of the news. I need to sleep. We have so much work to do, and so little time to finish now.

----

In my dreams I'm twenty and Bobby thirty-five again, just old enough to feel scandalous, but smart enough to obsess me. We meet once more in the hall of my building at NASA. Our programs, about to join and merge like our lives and our love later would, is still about space exploration, and not yet about human survival. But time has gone by, as time is wont to do. The past only lives in my dreams.

----

One day I had offered to exit stasis first, and spend a few years setting up our new abode, developing relationships with our new neighbours–if there were any–just to even out our age gap. He'd laughed at that, refused to be robbed of the privileges of a young wife.

"Besides," he'd said, "if the dinosaurs are back, I'd want to be there to defend you, tame them and learn to ride them..."

"If our stasis tanks last long enough for dinos to re-evolve, we could give ourselves a Nobel Prize of all sciences compounded."

Truth is, we don't know how they'll fare, or if they'll even take us through the war, as brief as it'll probably be. We've tested them before, short sleeps increasing to two full years in 2036-38. Our tanks have few changes from the original deep-pods we built for NASA. But a single glitch could mean death. I plunge my hand in the depth of a panel, feeling my way up the thick cooling lines and slowly tugging coils of them out in the open. Ten years working on these machines and I still can't shake the feeling of disembowelling them when the cables flop in my lap. A huntress in a lab-coat, oil a dark-blue blood under my nails. I run my fingers along the length of the cables, inspecting every joint, looking for wear and pieces to replace. How many years before one of them ruptures, a tremor from our dying world snaps them out of place? The deep-stasis pods Bobby and I worked on at NASA were meant to last almost indefinitely, easily up to a century without physical check-up, but within ships which propel themselves smoothly, and won't risk getting bombed or running out of power.

'Bobby, which wires did you say you wanted me to look at? This is all fine.'

'Bundle B1A, Ellen. And maybe T4A too, if you have time.'

'I always have time for this. If you're worried, then so am I.'

'I'm sure it'll be fine. The installation is ready, the power systems have been running smoothly for years. The sleep should go as planned.' He cleans his hands in a rag. 'All the auxiliary systems are good, I'm done with my check list, and just in time.'

I make a face at my handsome, grubby looking husband.

'I wish we could go back in time, instead of freezing it.'

'We're not freezing time, only removing ourselves from it.'

'Nothing in physics keeps time from flowing back, I wish I had studied more... Invented something to turn the arrow of time.'

I picture the glass sea of Paris contracting, liquefying itself in a mass of living people, monuments and pastry shops, the missile collecting its fragments and taking flight, propelled only by the inexorability of time. I imagine arguments being swallowed back, wine spit in glasses and gurgling up bottles. I imagine my ring sliding off my finger, Bobby's lips hot on mine for the first time again, and then unknown to me. Time doesn't seem to ever be kind.

----

Many cities have joined Paris into oblivion before the TV went quiet, and we drink in their name, and the name of all the people snuffed out by the war. The wine is red, french, our best and last bottle. Bobby looks at me anxiously before opening it. He fears it might have turned to vinegar. But it hasn't, and we make the best of it, drinking and fucking like teenagers all night long.

When morning comes we leave our bedroom for the cellar, bleary eyed, down our bunker, to our new beds.

'Ellen, Ellen, I'm scared.' His hands are around my face, cupping it behind my ears, turning me in some sort of parabolic dish directed towards him, tuned to receive the warm radiations of his love. 'I'm so scared of losing you.'

I cover his hands with mine and tell him how since I love him more, I'm the most scared, and drink in the sight of his face crinkling in a lavish smile.

'I'll see you in a hundred years handsome, but it'll feel like ten minutes, like last time. And we'll be together again.'

I hate to see him like that in his tank. It feels like bending over a metal coffin. I kiss him deeply, listen to his speech slur as the drugs take over, his eyes, until last, never leaving mine.

My own tank is cold and clammy, and the slow chime of the console as the computer helps me launch the last protocols sounds like a soft electronic bedtime tune. I listen to my breath, to my slowing heart, and the world goes dark.

----

Waking is horrible, no matter how long you've slept. I've been puking for a while, panting, coughing, and my head won't stop spinning. I'm halfway out of my tank, shivering in the cold air. There are voices speaking all around me, and a thick cover wraps my shoulders.

'Bobby?'

'Nej, sisa.'

'Huh?'

I look up into the face of a complete stranger. A woman, making cooing sounds at me. Around us are bright lights and more people wearing face masks.

'What the...'

Behind her shoulder, Bobby's tank is open. My mind trips to make sense of how open it is. Panels unscrewed, bowels dark and grey and missing. It's so wrong.

They're taking me away, I'm too weak to fight it. They're not slowing down, no matter how loud I cry.

----

A man settles in front of me, and props a little apparatus on his knees. It's a flat, metallic object, the size of a hand, without screens or special features. He taps it, speaks over it in his alien tongue, and the machine translates his words to English.

'My name is Martek, I am Fransken. How do you feel? Do you need medical attention? What is your name?'

I gape. Questions fight to come out first.

'I'm fine, my name is Ellen Vorden, I–'

The man smiles at me, and repeats my name.

'What year is this?'

'We're in 1750.'

'What?'

For a moment I think of the year 1750, however impossible Time Travel might be. But the man's smart black clothes, long braided hair and advanced technology don't look very industrial revolution.

'Ah, sorry' Martek flushes, 'in old English it is the year 2350.'

It takes me a long time to process that, to imagine how a hundred years sleep more than doubled itself. The best explanation...

'Where is Bobby?'

No. No, why is he frowning?

'The man in the other machine?'

'Yes.'

----

He left me a message, of the sort that could withstand time, carved and gouged into the stone floor. Like an old pyramid treasure room, they unearthed our little bunker and found us, relics of the past. Me in my metal sarcophagi, Bobby a skeleton propped at my side. From what I gathered, critical system failures made the computer launch his awakening eighty-eight years in our sleep. With irreplaceable broken parts in his stasis monitor, there was no going back to sleep for him. Outside data must have been terrible, because he chose to dismantle his tank to tinker and enhance mine. At the bottom of his message are some universal scribbles, present over all the greatest buildings of mankind and whatever school desks might have survived the ages: a B+E in the middle of a heart, and under it 2030– and the looped symbol of eternity. Time folded back on itself.

Ah, Bobby, you tacky bastard, you old romantic. How do I live after you?

----

Ellen love, I hope you make it and we won't go down in history as another stupid, star-crossed couple of scientists. I had no choice. I watch you sleep. It's so hard to keep from waking you up. I think of Time like you did sometimes, wishing for it to roll back. But it doesn't. You'll have to let it flow too, when you wake up. I hope the world will be a better place then. Until the universe cools and time ceases to matter, when past is present and we can be together again, you touring me around your labs, proud like a little peacock, so adorable, so brilliant – I'll be yours, always.

Bobby

~~ November 2016 – Theme : 1750

[splendidlyimperfect]

Gray hasn’t seen Natsu in years - not since he moved away with his boyfriend Joel and Natsu stopped texting him. A chance run-in at a bar brings Natsu back into Gray’s life, but the encounter puts Gray in danger when Joel finds out. Natsu quickly realizes that Gray’s stuck in a cycle of violence, and wants to help him escape. But leaving isn’t that easy, and sometimes loving someone might not be enough.

Chapter Summary: Natsu helps Gray plan for the future. Joel gets jealous, and Gray daydreams about what could have been. .

Chapters (14/22):  1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 ] 14 Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Natsu Dragneel/Gray Fullbuster, Gray Fullbuster/Original Male Character(s) Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rape Aftermath, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Natsu just wants to help, but Gray feels like he can’t leave, Non-Linear Narrative, Trans Character, Tumblr: FTLGBTales, ftlgbtpride2019, Coming Out, First Love, Angst with a Happy Ending, I promise

** TW for abuse and implied noncon

-----

i wanna come home to you

long·ing | \ ˈlȯŋ-iŋ noun :  a strong desire, especially for something unattainable

.

xiii september .

Fall comes, and with it, believable excuses for long-sleeved shirts and scarves. Joel’s work gets busier, so while he’s angry more often, he also spends a lot more time at the office and leaves Gray alone.

Gray spends most of the free time picking up extra shifts at the restaurant. Joel hadn’t let him leave the apartment for over a week after he’d bruised Gray’s face, and Gray had almost lost his job. Lucy vouching for him being ‘sick’ had been the only thing that had convinced Jeremy to keep him, so now Gray’s determined to make up the missing hours.

The other benefit of Joel working more is that it leaves Gray with more time to talk to Natsu. When Gray’s calling card had run out of minutes, they’d both downloaded Skype. Seeing Natsu’s blurry face on the phone screen for the first time had been a terrifying relief.

“You should pack up a bag,” Natsu says one afternoon near the end of September. They’re both lying on their beds while they chat, and Gray can see Natsu’s cat Happy curled up beside him. Natsu looks content, but his voice is serious.

“Why?” Gray asks, even though he knows exactly what Natsu means.

Natsu gives Gray a look. “I know you can’t leave,” he says, “but what if you wanted to, one day? Or you had to?”

Gray presses his face into the pillow, letting the idea float through his mind. It seems so easy when they talk, and there have been a few times where Gray has been this close to asking Natsu to come get him.

But then Joel comes home with Gray’s favorite coffee, or takes him out for dinner, or tells Gray he loves him, and Gray feels so guilty. He has to stay. Joel needs him.

“What would I put in it?” Gray asks eventually, peeking up at Natsu.

“Your license,” Natsu says immediately. Gray has a feeling he’s rehearsed this. “Any paperwork you have – birth certificate, or name change paperwork, things like that.”

“Joel has all that at work,” Gray says dully, hugging the pillow to his stomach. “I have an ID, but I don’t have a license.”

“Okay, your ID then,” Natsu says. “Do you have anything with your name on it? Your health care card? SIN card?”

Gray shakes his head, refusing to look at the screen. “Joel keeps it all.” He feels so small and stupid. “Everything’s under his name.”

Natsu sighs, and Gray can see him petting Happy out the corner of his eye. “What about a bank card? Credit card?”

“I don’t have anything,” Gray says, trying to push down the hot flush that’s creeping up his cheeks. “He has it all.” He finally looks up at Natsu again. “There’s no point. I can’t leave.”

Continue reading on AO3

If he leaves, everything will fall apart. He’ll have nothing – no money, no home, no insurance to pay for his meds. He’ll lose Bella and his job and the life he’s built.

“If I ever had to run out of the house,” Natsu says slowly, “like, if it was on fire or something, right? I’d grab Happy. My keys, my phone. Probably the scarf from my dad.” He scratches behind Happy’s ears. “That picture of us.”

Gray’s quiet for a long time. He still has that picture, buried in the back of one of his textbooks that’s collecting dust in the bottom of their closet.

“I… have a favorite sweater,” Gray says eventually, picking at a thread in the comforter. “A-and a travel mug I really like.” He feels Bella flop down on the bed next to him and he turns to look at her. “I, um… I think Bella’s adoption certificate from the shelter has my name on it. It might be in my email.”

Natsu nods, giving Gray an encouraging smile. “What else?”

“My, um, my meds. And a phone charger,” Gray adds. He looks around the room, but he’s not attached to anything here. “Jeremy at work, he—I get a paystub every couple weeks. Joel takes them usually, but… I could make a copy?”

“That sounds good,” Natsu says. “What about some clothes?”

They spend the next hour talking about what to pack, and over the next few days, Gray manages to collect everything in an old gym bag of Joel’s. On Friday he brings it to work and hides it in his locker.

He tries hard not to think too hard about what it means.

-----

“What’s your deal with that cop?”

It’s Friday evening, and Gray and Joel are sitting on the couch, flipping through Netflix while they wait for the pizza to arrive.

Gray looks over at Joel, who keeps flipping back and forth between movies without really looking at anything. He’s been in a bad mood all evening, so Gray’s stayed carefully quiet, playing Tetris on his phone and agreeing with whatever Joel says.

“What do you mean?” Gray asks carefully.

“The blond one,” Joel says. “Always hanging out at the restaurant. Seems like he’s into you.”

Gray stills, watching the Tetris shape fall into the wrong place, blocking the other pieces until they pile up and reach the top of the screen.

“He’s just a regular,” Gray says, watching the words Game Over flash at him across the screen. “Usually Lucy serves him, not me.”

Joel looks over at Gray as he turns the TV off, then sets the remote on the coffee table. Gray’s mind races as he desperately tries to think of what to say to calm Joel down.

“Don’t lie to me,” Joel says quietly.

“H-his name’s Sting,” Gray says, looking back down at his phone. The screen’s gone dark. “I... he’s friendly. The precinct is close to the restaurant, I—there’s nothing, he’s just a customer.”

“I saw how he looked at you today,” Joel says, shaking his head. Gray bites the inside of his cheek, keeping his eyes down. Joel had picked him up from work today, and Gray knows that Sting was watching when Joel had taken Gray’s tips, then grabbed his arm to lead him out to the car.

“He’s engaged,” Gray says, and as soon as the words leave his mouth, he knows he’s only made things worse.

“How do you know that?” Joel demands. “Thought he was ‘just a customer.’” He moves closer to Gray on the sofa, and Gray flinches, but Joel reaches out and grabs his wrist, taking his phone away.

“He brought his fiancé in one day, that’s all,” Gray says as quietly as possible. “I’m not—I just do my job.”

“What, your job involves flirting with other men now?” Joel demands.

Gray shakes his head. “N-no, I—”

“Shut up.” Joel lets go of Gray’s wrist and flips through his phone instead. Gray watches Joel scroll through his texts, then flip to his e-mail.

After a few terrifying minutes, Joel sighs and drops Gray’s phone back on the table.

“I’m sorry, babe,” he says, rubbing his face. “Work’s been a lot lately. I didn’t mean to get mad.”

Gray relaxes incrementally. “Is… can I do anything?” he asks. He’s tried everything to keep Joel happy – cleaning, cooking, making coffee, being quiet. Maybe there’s something he’s missing.

Joel reaches over and runs his hand up Gray’s thigh, then leans in and says, “there might be something.” His voice is low and Gray knows he’s going for sensual, but it makes Gray nauseous. A cold, uncomfortable feeling creeps up the back of his neck.

Joel slides his hand further up, slipping it under Gray’s shirt and shifting closer. Gray closes his eyes, biting his tongue so hard that he tastes blood.

He doesn’t want this.  

“C’mon, baby,” Joel murmurs, bringing his other hand up to Gray’s hair and leaning in for a kiss. Gray lets him, trying his hardest not to tense up under Joel’s touch. Ever since the drunken night with Natsu, things with Joel haven’t been the same. Whenever Gray closes his eyes, it’s Natsu’s hands touching him, Natsu’s lips on his neck, Natsu’s body pressing against him.

Joel’s about to pull Gray into his lap when there’s a knock on the door, and Bella races out of the bedroom, barking. The pizza. Gray nearly breathes a sigh of relief.  

Joel pulls back from Gray, squeezing his hip before standing up and reaching for his wallet. As he walks out of the living room, Gray wraps his arms tightly around himself and closes his eyes, taking several deep breaths to calm the way his heart’s pounding in his chest.

Joel reappears a minute later, dropping the pizza on the coffee table and sliding back onto the couch. He brushes his fingers across Gray’s cheek and grabs his hips again.

“Now,” he says, voice low in Gray’s ear. “Where were we?”

-----

Gray calls Natsu as soon as Joel leaves for work the next morning.

“What happened?” Natsu asks as soon as he answers. Gray doesn’t say anything, just props the phone up against the headboard and buries his face in the pillow. “Gray?”

He shakes his head.

“Are you okay?” Natsu asks, and Gray can hear the worry in his voice.

Gray’s not sure how to answer. Joel didn’t hit him, but it still hurts. His whole body feels heavy and his skin itches, and it’s hard to open his eyes.

“Gray, please, look at me,” Natsu says gently. “I need to know you’re not hurt.”

“’m okay,” Gray whispers, lifting his head up and rubbing his face before looking at Natsu. “Just tired.”

“What did he do to you?” Natsu asks, and he looks like he’s going to cry.

“I… nothing,” Gray says, sitting up slowly and hugging the pillow to his chest. “I’m not hurt. Promise.”

Natsu studies him intently – it’s hard to catch all his expressions through the crappy connection, but Gray has every part of Natsu’s face memorized. He knows that Natsu gets freckles in the summer, and that there’s a tiny scar under his lip, and that when he laughs, his eyes crinkle and he gets dimples that Gray loves to kiss.

Loved to kiss.

Gray shakes his head and presses his face to the pillow again. “I miss you,” he whispers. “I wish…” He doesn’t want to cry, but he can’t seem to stop it from happening, and he bites the sound down until his shoulders are shaking.

“Hey, are you sure you’re okay?” Natsu asks. Gray shakes his head. “Fucking hell… Gray, please, talk to me. I’m scared for you.”

“I can’t,” Gray whispers, wiping his eyes. “I w-want…” He looks up at Natsu, and for just a second, pictures himself in Natsu’s arms. Feels Natsu holding him, kissing his forehead, rubbing his back, wiping his tears.

“Are you alone?” Natsu asks. Gray nods, taking a shaky breath. “I don’t think you should be. Do you have anybody that can come be with you?”

Gray shakes his head. I want to be with you, he thinks.

“Do you want me to call Sting? He can—”

“No,” Gray says quickly, thinking of Joel’s jealous glare and the bruises on his hips. “Please, no.”

“Gray,” Natsu whispers, and he brings the phone closer to himself, as if it would bring Gray closer to him too. “Listen to me, love. You deserve to be happy. Joel is abusing you. He hurts you and makes you afraid – you shouldn’t be scared of somebody you love.”

I know, Gray thinks.

“I…” He’s so close to saying it. So close to asking, to telling Natsu he’s ready to leave this all behind. But it’s terrifying and too much, so instead he says, “can you… can we just talk? About… whatever, it doesn’t matter, I just…”

“Yeah,” Natsu says immediately, voice gentle. “Of course, yeah. Did I tell you about the Halloween party I’m going to?”  

-----

They talk for a long time, and when they finally hang up, they both whisper I love you before the picture cuts out. Gray stares at the screen for a long time, then turns the phone off and shoves it back in the table drawer, covering it with a book and some old receipts. Then he curls up on the bed, wrapping his arm around one of the pillows and pressing his face against it.

I love you.

The guilt washes over Gray like it always does, and he lets it hurt. He feels like throwing up because those words are supposed to be for Joel and only Joel. But when Gray says them to Joel, they don’t feel the same.

With Joel, I love you feels like please don’t hurt me.

With Natsu, I love you feels like you’re safe.

Gray remembers the first time he told Natsu he loved him. They’d been dating for three months – it was almost Halloween and Natsu had been lying on Gray’s bed, waving his hands in the air as he talked about costume ideas. His eyes had been bright and his smile had been so wide and sweet, and Gray had leaned over and kissed him, whispering I love you against his lips.

Natsu had immediately said it back, running his fingers through Gray’s hair and rolling them over until he could press Gray into the bed and kiss him all over.

Gray wonders what his life would be like now if Natsu hadn’t left. The thought has crossed his mind before, but he’s never let himself really think about it. It hurts too much, and Gray’s not supposed to want.

Gray curls up tighter, and when he closes his eyes, he sees a house – something small and comfortable and far away from here. Natsu’s cooking pancakes in the kitchen, wearing a stupid apron that has some silly pun written across the front of it. He’s humming along to whatever is playing on the radio, and when he turns to look at Gray, his smile is just as wide as when Gray had first said, “I love you.”

A warm, contented feeling spreads through Gray’s chest, and in the daydream, he reaches out for Natsu, taking both his hands and pulling him close. Natsu kisses Gray's cheek, brushes his hair from his eyes, wraps his hands around Gray’s waist and starts to dance.

You deserve to be happy. Natsu’s words drift through Gray’s mind, and his stomach twists again. He’s abusing you.

Gray takes a deep breath, opening his eyes and peeking over at the bedroom door before whispering, “Joel is… abusive.” He immediately squeezes his eyes shut, holding the pillow tight against him as he lets the words settle. He’s never said it before. Even when Natsu asks, Gray never says the words out loud.

“Joel hurts me,” he tries again, voice so quiet that Bella, who is sleeping beside him, doesn’t stir. “He shouldn’t hit me.”

Something shifts in his chest. The knots are still there, but it’s different, somehow. He wishes he understood what it meant.

“I shouldn’t be scared,” he says quietly. “I deserve to be happy.”  

[mypersonalrpstuff]

Name: Milo Voorhees

Age: 22

Growing up in Council Grove, Kansas, was not very fun for a young gay Milo. A town so small, it was impossible to have any real fun unless he wanted to travel miles each night to the nearest gay bar. Made even worse by the fact that Milo, a very mature child, never had himself fooled into believing he was heterosexual, he knew from the time he hit puberty that he liked men, even though he knew, based on his parents reactions, that this isn’t something that would be welcome.

So, the day he turned sixteen, Milo applied for emancipation, and as soon as it was granted, he left home.  He stayed with his older sister, Elsa, until he finished high school, though he always regretted the infamy that he brought on her by abandoning their parents and being openly gay when he moved in with her. 

As soon as he graduated, Milo left town. He sold almost all of his possessions, bought a ticket out of there, and spent a year living and working on the railroad, giving him the freedom he always wanted.... and giving him a lot of sweaty men to watch.

It was also during this time that Milo learned just how.... unique, he is. He still doesn’t fully understand it or know why it happens, and his sister evidently has not experienced it...he refuses to ask his mother and father, but while travelling Milo could always see a.... something, above certain people. Like a jigsaw puzzle, but far more complex than any he had seen. More like Tetris, but with geometry shapes thrown in. Some people had their “puzzles” completed, and they were gray, and Milo couldn’t interact with them. But most people’s puzzles were missing quite a few pieces, and seemed almost to glow. Milo still regrets touching one. As soon as he did, the empty places started filling in, and quickly. And then the puzzle started growing, to the size of the gray ones he had seen before. He panicked worrying he had done something wrong. Eventually their puzzle turned gray as well.... partially. Some of it still just kept growing, and that stayed colorful as ever. Not knowing what to do, Milo simply swiped at the pieces that were still colorful, though he nearly fell back when they simply absorbed into his skin.  For the next four months, he didn’t know what that meant, and was worried the whole time. And then, the engine burst. Milo took a half a pound of shrapnel in his chest, but he barely noticed it, and the wound vanished as soon as he removed the metal.

He left the train after that, deciding to move into the first town he got off in, which just happened to be the New Mexican town of Rocoya. Realizing that train maintenance wasn’t exactly a helpful job position when living in a college town, Milo decided to enroll, taking a job at a local mechanic shop to help pay his way to an architectural degree.

[colorofyourhair]

Civic Duty

Prompt:

Prompt Rating: T

Note: Requests are currently closed. I will make a post with guidelines when they are open again. As tumblr is the only site that will let me list an individual rating per chapter I’ll rate them as content demands. However the larger compilation on both FFN and AO3 are rated M.

Also posted here:

FFN

AO3

She positioned her coffee cup as far away from her laptop as possible. Experience had taught her that lesson the hard way. Erza bit into her croissant and instantly wished she'd went with chocolate instead of plain. She opened the network's front page while brushing pastry flakes from her shirt. The bolded headline nearly made her choke.

E.N.N. CEO HAS PRIVATE DINNER WITH SENIOR COUNCIL MEMBER.

With a fifteen hundred jewel bar tab citizens can rest assured their tax dollars are well spent on burying murdered intern sex scandal!!

Erza glanced around the newsroom before taking another bite of her breakfast to hide her smirk. The headline may be sensationalist but it wasn't exactly untrue. For the last week, the news manager had been under increasing pressure to make the reports of Gran Doma's affair with a recently found dead intern go away. For his part, the news manager resisted but if the CEO had been bought and paid for, the story would very likely get buried.

Private dinners and money changing hands couldn't bury the growing public dislike of Gran Doma and his brand of authority, though. He'd filled the Council with cronies and government agencies with family members. Erza found it to be the worst kind of nepotism. She didn't doubt he had the reach to have an intern who'd become a problem murdered without ever getting his hands dirty. So far, though, solid proof of both the affair and involvement with her death had remained elusive.

“Wow, Erza,” Lucy said from behind her. “Looks like your hacker struck again.”

“It's not my hacker.” Erza muttered, stuffing the rest of her croissant into her mouth.

“It's your thing, though,” Lucy teased. “I'd love to know who he is. Got any leads for me?”

“There's no way of guessing who they are, and no I don't. I just fix the site when it happens and that's all.”

“Sure thing, Erza. You'd let me know if you knew anything, though, right?” Lucy leaned against the edge of Erza's desk. “You wouldn't give the lead to anyone else?”

Erza sighed. “Of course, Lucy. I'd give it all to you over any one of these testosterone slinging idiots any day of the week.”

“I'm just sick of the fluff pieces, you know? I want something juicy.”

“Trust me, I get it. I'd love to stick it to all the mansplainers in IT, too.”

“At least you were promoted out of The Dungeon.”

Erza nodded as her eyes began to scroll through the lines of code. The hacker had been clever this time and her eye twitched. Lucy was still talking.

“Though, you were probably the only reason the bottom floor smelled like anything other than scorched coffee and Axe Body Spray.” Erza half-laughed at Lucy's joke but her fingers were already clicking away. “Ooh, is that Makarov over there?”

Erza jolted and her eyes frantically swept the room. She didn't need the news manager over her shoulder – not that he could've seen over her shoulder anyway.

“I'm kidding,” Lucy said, nudging her shoulder. “You need to lighten up. You've been jumpy all week. Don't tell me this hacker is getting to you?”

“Not at all,” Erza muttered, glancing around the newsroom again. “Listen, I have to go fix that snag in the office chat boxes. Want to have lunch together?”

“I'm meeting Natsu. He's got a nightshift this week and I won't see him as much. Maybe tomorrow?”

“I understand about the nightshift. Jellal's been on the ER graveyard for what feels a month.” Erza stood and closed her laptop. She would leave it behind but definitely not open for prying eyes.

“I'll see you, then.” Lucy smiled and wove her way through the maze of desks.

The Dungeon was a term used to describe the rooms of servers and Tetris-like layout of cubicles used by the IT department. Erza used to have one such cubicle until earning a promotion to the newsroom floor where she personally managed the layout of the Era News Network's front page and oversaw bug reports that were sent to the IT group in The Dungeon. Most of the time her stress level was pretty low and that was mostly due to her new desk location. Despite her expertise and time with the network, certain male employees still failed to recognize her seniority.

Erza stopped next to Hibiki's cubical and he grinned up at her in a way that might have perhaps charmed someone who didn't know him as well. He was flirtatious in a mostly self-aware way.

“And what can I do for you today, Miss Scarlet?” Hibiki asked leaning back in his chair and linking his hands together.

“Can you handle the chat situation for me, please? It should be a simple fix, I just don't have the patience today.”

“Sure, it would be my pleasure, ma'am.” He suddenly sat up and grinned. “You've seen the front page, right? I bet they're having a shit fit upstairs.”

“I fixed the CEO headline but he fucked with the code this time. I have to go through and –” Erza sighed and flicked the fringe of hair from her face. “Anyway. If you can handle that, I'd love it.”

“No problem.” Hibiki's phone chimed and he nodded subtly to the elevator. “Ichiya's on his way.”

“Thanks, Hibiki. I owe you one.” Erza navigated the cubicles – shooting a sharp eye at Ren who wasn't even trying to hide the game on his phone – and quickly slipped through the door leading to the stairs. Avoiding Ichiya would be the pinnacle of her day.

Erza kicked off her shoes and gave Pantherlily a pat on his furry head before shedding her skirt and shirt on a bee-line for the bed. The sheets were still rumpled and a light steam rolled from the cracked bathroom door. Just before closing her eyes, Erza saw Jellal's open laptop on the edge of the desk. She rolled her eyes and pulled a pillow over her head.

A slice of periwinkle blue blocked her view and the smell of his soap filled the room. Erza tossed the pillow vaguely in his direction before rolling over to her back.

“Aw come on,” Jellal said softly. “It could've been worse.”

“I suppose I should thank you,” she sighed. “It got me out of spending my afternoon fixing a stupid chat bug.” Jellal laughed and stretched out in the bed beside her. His clean scrub top was still folded on top of the chest of drawers and the sleeves of his white undershirt hugged his biceps.

“Anything but a chat bug,” he joked, slapping hand over his heart. “The horror!” His dimpled grin faded. “You're wasted in that office, Erza.”

“I know,” she whispered touching his cheek with her fingertips.

“Am I making it worse?”

“You're doing the public a service.”

“Maybe it's selfish but I won't do it at the cost of your stress level or job.” Jellal settled onto the sheets next to her and Erza rolled to face him. She leaned in to kiss the corner of his mouth softly.

“I'll survive. I look like a hero every time I fix it. As long as you use the backdoor I gave you, it's untraceable.” Erza swiped the remnants of her lip balm from his cheek with her thumb. “I'm more worried about you and your source.” She ran her fingers through his damp hair. “Are you sure this is safe?”

“As safe as I can make it, Erza. He's a cop and if Gran Doma's tentacles are worming around in law enforcement as well as the private sector and media, we're all fucked.”

“The sex scandal headline you put up this morning had over three thousand clicks before I took it down and the front page itself cracked ten.”

“Good.” Jellal's phone alarm shattered the quiet of the moment and Pantherlily perched on the edge of the mattress. He reached behind himself to grab the phone and silence the alarm. “I work until three this morning. I went shopping so there's plenty of stuff for dinner.”

“Oh, thank you. I'm so tired I was prepared to eat dry cereal.” Jellal laughed and leaned over to kiss her before standing and pulling on his scrub top. She blew him one last kiss as he gave Pantherlily a goodbye scratch behind the ears. Once the front door of their apartment shut and she heard the deadbolt latch, she pulled the cat onto her chest. He settled into a bun and purred loudly.

Erza woke to a gentle shake of her shoulder. Jellal plugged what looked like a flash drive into his laptop. She sat up and ran a hand through her hair.

“What's –” her words were cut off by a yawn. “What's going on?”

“This is a bunch of raw files from the EPD server. My source left it for me. You're going to want to have a look at this.” Jellal slid his laptop over to her. Erza's eyes widened as she flipped through the document previews.

“Wow,” she muttered. “This is – this is pretty damning.”

“Erza we're looking at original documentation of the body and the autopsy. This is ugly.”

“It looks like I'll have a story for Lucy after all.” Erza reached for her phone. Hopefully Lucy would be awake and ready for a bombshell.

[shiningpeacekeeper]

My solid ground is a flower garden.

by Shining Peacekeeper 2/4/2020 Extended traumatic experiences and/or constant stress damages the brain, so some people develop a "pre-disposition" early in life to being in a constant state of fight or flight. 

How do you heal the brain?

How do you get to a place where you are no longer shredded to pieces and have the energy/focus/resources to be an organized, productive, calm, kind and optimistic human being instead of someone on the edge of a trash fire all the time? Liable to break down, scream, recoil, explode and/or generally unable to focus and give energy on long term goals?

How do you stop living with the feeling you will "never be able to"? Is it a fallacy that this is even possible? 

I envy the people who don’t seem to struggle against the mind each day, who can move on from mishaps and troubles, who seem flexible and adaptable and generally pre-disposed to a happy and optimistic outlook. I wish sometimes I was so put together. I've tried hard for so many years to take care and heal, but the older I get and see the wired stress response set so firmly in place, I feel discouraged sometimes about my own ability to respond to situations "appropriately" and grow into a better human being. I feel like I'm always looking through a mirror and seeing a monster barely caged, or being that sick-self viewing the world through a skin that fools other people into thinking I'm nicer, more mature, more steady, stronger, more graceful and capable of life than I actually feel. 

Why must I always be broken in two? 

There was a moment a few nights ago I saw with one set of eyes for the first time in years, maybe the 3rd time in my life. I was one person. One mind, free. What secret words did Spirit whisper in my ears that gave me that key? I wish I had written it down now. 

The summer before last I spent a few weeks learning about DID (aka Multiple Personalities) and while I don't have this condition, I can relate to some of the visuals people with this used to describe their experiences. An inner world, and speaking with parts of themselves, and sort of being "split" into parts. I've studied and practiced shamanism (as introduced in a western context often called "core-shamanism") for a large part of my life, knowledgeably and unknowingly. A key concept in shamanic practices around the world is the idea of "soul loss", bit of your essence splitting off in response to traumatic events.

I have been the practitioner, bringing precious pieces of self back to someone who needed them, and I have been the patient both of other soul retrievers and of my own inner work and each experience has had noticeable physical, mental and emotional responses. Full integration however, has not been successful every time and I put that down to a bio-chemically/physiologically ingrained patterning to stress and other environmental factors that are acting like blockers on neurons when they can’t receive information or certain chemicals that let them act appropriately.

Maybe the fallacy is believing that any one role-model in the world feels all the pieces of their inner and outer life are uninhibited and perfectly aligned, thus enabling them to feel satisfied and successful with no caveats. Isn’t that what I’m supposed to feel and experience?  The ability to cope? When other people are faced with problems don’t they just go “hmmm...okay, that’s a challenge...let’s do this instead?” simple and easy? Don’t other people feel like they have everything they need up to the present moment acting as a stable surface to stand on, thus creating a surety that they can hold up their own sky (and possibly occasionally and temporarily the sky of others) with no worries of the infrastructure beneath their feet giving way?

I don’t. I usually feel like I can’t even stand at ground level because the earth around me is a broke and desiccated valley, crumbling away to voids and fire. Here and there a healthy patch of solid ground has developed and from time to time I must be standing in those lush places, but I rarely see it when I do. I feel the other parts keenly though, because it’s like I’m hanging on for dear life, all the strength I have working just to not slip off the edge and into dangerous subterranean territories.  All this missing ground are the things I didn’t get growing up, or the skills I didn’t develop that would have made me a normal, healthy person capable of coping with the nominal stresses of daily life, things other people never blink an eye at, or at most shluff a heavy sigh off their chest about, can send this stress-damaged brain into tears, panic, anxiety, anger, depression (and not uncommonly more than one or two of those in rapid succession). 

All this is said trying to find the imagery to describe why I feel incapable or unprepared for the challenges of my ambitions, not to mention day to day living. All of this to explain why I feel like I might never be as successful as I want to be, and as I see others being (others who in my mind seem to float on effortless clouds of right-place-right-time-and-all-the-resources-I-didn’t/dont, people who it’s clear to me, don’t have the same relationship to stress and it’s subsequent inhibitors that I do).

So this imagery exists, but so does a memory. There was a time (let’s go back to shamanism class here) I felt the crumbling under my feet and I remember hearing a voice (the teacher, a spirit, a friend?) assure me that the ground under my feet was solid, she would always hold me up. I’m sure it was a spirit I’ve worked with for years and associate her strongly with that memory and few others, but the image in retrospect was strong. Solid, stable, deep earth. No cracks, no crumbling, it was ground I could trust and do.  I can’t tell if that ground is the oasis's between my crumbling mental structure that I occasionally climb to safety on or if the crumbling is a terrible lie, a vision of fear cast on me by terror and remnant stress responses echoing in my brain. When that original vision came, I was clutching the ground in terror and saw that it was in fact stable. I have started to believe that the times I find myself clinging to a ledge are correspondent with comparing myself to others, feeding into the knee-jerk reactions to environmental stresses. While remembering the solid ground--akin to the effects of breathing and meditation--reminds me that I am capable, stable. It’s taught me digging back to “what am I missing from when I was 10?” isn’t helpful for day to day living for me. If I keep focusing on that missing, supposedly key elements, of my adolescent development I continue to ignore the skills I’ve built in the interim, and possibly overlook the fact that I have built or replaced those losses in the natural course of “doing the work”.  That’s when I can tell you about the castle and the rose garden. It’s beautiful. It didn’t always look like this, but after Abraham (my partner of 7 years and friend for 3 more) died suddenly, I revisited this place in myself I’d discovered around the time we got together. Only back then it was a fully terrifying place with guards and spiky iron and a generally bleak landscape full of mistrust and strong locks with thick chains. Some time in the months after he passed away I was taken there as swiftly as closing my eyes and shocked to see the opulent blooming vegetation encrusted space with colors and texture like some kind of agreement between a overgrown British garden and spring festival faery grounds.

I was shocked because I hadn’t really revisited this place, this poetic imagery since before we moved in together, the times of iron clad soldiers and dimly lit echoing halls and an overall macabre feeling; and suddenly I was seeing the most literal metaphor--the garden of love-- our relationship, his affections and my sense of self had grown over 7 years. If nothing else in my life ever gives me as strong a visual of what I’ve BUILT, I will always be able to rely on this imagery. I can not contemplate what I don’t have enough of, or what pre-historic tetris pieces in the mantle of my inner-earth are missing when I walk through the flower capped avenues, but I think there’s probably many metaphors to gain about what skills I’ve strengthened that have helped this flora to flourish so aptly. 

When I feel incapable I look at the resilience and adaptability I’ve modeled since the discovery of this exquisite Becoming. I use that double vision to see myself as someone else and with distance I have grown appreciation and respect that I can pull into my internal expressions in moments of clarity.

I’ve done a lot of work on healing my soul, my grief, my sexuality, my heart but I don’t know what the answer to healing the brain is. My world is rounding out and more stones in the “cairn” of my being are strong and stable enough to support the weight when my mind is weak. (That’s a metaphor for another time but think about a mental map: social, family, food, shelter, alone time, arts, etc) When I can remember and pull myself to my feet and shake away the fear that tells me the spot I’m standing on doesn’t exist, I can use all these other tools to bring me back to center. 

I feel like that’s the closest thing I have to health right now.